


Long Way Down (You Know We Could Talk In That Language Only We Understand)

by ladygriffyndor



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And before Octavia is discovered, Angst, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, Bellarke, F/M, Security Guard Bellamy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Ark AU, This is before they go to the Ground, really cheesy sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 49,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygriffyndor/pseuds/ladygriffyndor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is in solitary confinement because of trying to help her father to go public about the failure in Life Support. Slowly, she is driving insane from being isolated from everyone, but it all changes when security guard Bellamy Blake gets assigned the job of bringing her a tray of food three times a day. Soon they befriend each other and he tries to make it easier for her (occasionally smuggling art supplies and thin books into her cell, of course).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I had this idea yesterday and I just couldn't wait to write it. I hope you guys like it. Concrit is appreciated!  
> The title is from Tom Odell's song Long Way Down.

 

> _They hardly gave me ten minutes after my dad died._
> 
> _When I think about it, it comes back on flashes. First I'm watching my father being suck out into the darkness of space, the gates close within a second and I'm collapsing against my mother. Suddenly a new set of gates are closing and I find myself the way I will remain for the following two years of my life: alone._

The days merge into each other in the Sky Box, outside you can always hear the unmistakable noise of too many teenagers together. Ninety three of them, to be precise. Six more are on solitary confinement, Clarke Griffin, former princess of the Ark is one of them.

"I don't know what's worse, knowing I still have two years left on this place or not knowing exactly _when_ I will get out." She mutters, laying down on the floor facing the fluorescent light, after a minute she replies to herself. "No, the worst part is still expecting for someone to answer to me." No one gives a reply for that. After a few weeks she gives up even trying to talk to herself. She stops thanking the people that bring her food, stops greeting those who escort her to the bathroom. Both delinquents in solitary and those charged with major crimes don't get visitation rights, Clarke hasn't seen her mother in months. Or Wells, but it's not like she wants to see him. 

She is not allowed to receive mail either, or to write to them. In fact she is not supposed to do anything but to stare to the four silver walls that surround her and consider herself lucky for having a window in one of them. But the stars are not that fascinating when you live among them, and the Ground is only visible every once in a a while. The Ground, that's the dream.

According to what she heard, she is the youngest delinquent in solitary in the past twenty years. Usually those who break the law badly enough to get stuck in solitary are almost eighteen and get floated within weeks. Clarke is sure that even if they decide against floating her once she turns eighteen she'll probably beg them to. Two years without nothing to do and no one to talk to will do that to a person. It's only been four months and the blonde has gone through all the phases of dementia... twice.

"Food's here." A voice comments before knocking, and Clarke sits up, trying to blink away the dark spots in her vision for having stared at the light for too long. "Uh... Miss Griffin? Food's here." The voice is a little louder now, and the knocking continues. "Coming." The blonde answers, making it the first word she lets out in days, and she makes her way to the door, receiving the tray. "I thought you might be asleep, but you wouldn't want to miss your meal, would you?" The voice sounded thoughtful... and amiable. It took Clarke a moment to finally blurt out a 'Thank you'

"I'll be back for the tray in two hours. Uh... Bon apetit." The chancellor's daughter hears the guard's footsteps hesitate in front of her door before leaving. "Goodbye." She whispers after a while.

* * *

 

Two quick nods precede the voice she has been wondering about. Was it real? Did someone really engage in a conversation with her? Clarke was well aware that she could have dreamt it, or hallucinated it. But after the two knocks the same voice as before speaks up. "Can I have the tray?" Clarke's fingers tremble when she tries to get it through the groove on the door, he grabs it. And after a second he speaks again, he sounds closer to the groove but Clarke doesn't peek into it. "Look what I got you." He whispers, and slides a brand new pencil through the groove. Clarke gasps and snatches it off his fingers. "Oh my goodness." She breaths out.

Outside a chuckle is heard before he clears his throat. "It just... kinda upsets me you guys have nothing to do in there, especially you since you've got so much time left. I'd go insane..." He trailed off and Clarke scoffed. "I'm getting there."

"What do you know? The traitor's funny." Clarke scoffs again at that, the man chuckles louder, but a moment later his laughter gets further away from the groove, as if he was backing off to walk away. The blonde presses her ear against the door but she hears nothing. "Thank you." She says after a while.

"I'll be back for dinner." He replies, and leaves her with a pencil and the now absolute certainty that he exists.


	2. Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you so much for the kudos guys! I hope you like this chapter.

> _It was worse when she was a baby. Much worse._
> 
> _My mother blacked out after the birth, and it was on me to cut the cord and give  my sister a bath. Living in the B section meant we didn't have warm water, and she cried every night when I cleaned her. She cried a lot. She didn't understand how important it was for her to keep quiet._

Bellamy rubs the tiredness out of his face, loosens the collar of his uniform shirt and slides down the keycard on the door's panel, shutting it quickly after scurrying inside, anyone walking down the hall wouldn't have been able to so much as glance inside the quarters. Bellamy is being overly cautious, and he knows that, but she is worth the bother. She is worth every bother.

"A Roman walks into a bar and asks for a martinus." Bellamy starts, walking into the quarters, leaving his belt with his shock baton on the table where pieces of fabric await to be mended. "'You mean a _martini_?' the bartender asks, confused." He continues, pushing the desk away so he is able to kneel down next to the loose floorboard, a giggle is heard underneath, he smiles.

The man pulls off the floorboard, revealing his fifteen year old sister. "What did the Roman say Bell?" She asks excitedly as he helps her out of the hole, she stretches her legs and Bellamy thinks once again it is about time he makes that hole bigger, she is starting to have trouble fitting in there. His baby sister is growing up too fast.

"You do the Roman voice better, O." The brother replies, readjusting the floorboard on its place  before looking up at Octavia, beaming. She doesn't hesitate as she gives him the joke's punchline. " _If I wanted a double, I would have asked for it!_ " Bellamy chuckles and rustles her hair to which she protests, as always. He sits down at the chair by the desk, pulling off his shoes and sighing, it's the first time he sits down all day, still he smiles up at her. "I was assigned a new job today. I'm a security guard slash waiter."

Octavia stretches her legs gently before sitting down on his bed, their bed, she raises an eyebrow at him, inviting him to continue. "You know the kids in the Sky Box? Well, some of them are in something called solitary confinement, it's horrible, actually. Anyway, now I am in charge of taking trays of food to them three times a day. So I might be a little bit late for dinner from now on." Bellamy had allowed his eyes to wander off her as he spoke, but he faces her just in time to notice her mouthing the words _solitary confinement_ without making any noise _._ It must seem terribly familiar for her. "I just stopped by to let you know. Mom will be back real soon with your dinner alright? And then I will be back, I promise, I just... I got worried because I heard something about a surprise raid."

She knows what that means, and he hates it. He wishes he could stay in the quarters to talk to her, to soothe her, to distract the guard with nonsense talk while she hid under the floorboards. But he needs the job, it's the only thing that will give him enough money to support his little family. Octavia sighs and Bellamy does too, moving so he could sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"I don't like solitary confinement either Bell, I haven't done anything wrong." She whispers, successfully breaking his heart. "Hey, I won't let anything bad happen to you, alright? _Ever_." He promises, setting a kiss on her hair. "And maybe once I get promoted we could move to a bigger quarter, maybe we could find you a better hideout, somewhere that isn't dark, would you like that?"  Octavia scoffs, wiping away the tears with her dirty palms. He has to clean that hole too. "I'm not afraid of the dark." She reminds him.

It still kills him though, to walk out of the quarters that once again seem empty. It kills him to listen to her muffled whispers, the three words he taught her, the ones she repeats to herself over and over when she is forced to hide. Bellamy walks back to the Sky Box, the words echoing in his head the whole time.

_I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid._

 

* * *

 

He clears his throat before knocking and Clarke jumps from her bed, she has been nervously playing with the pencil as she waited for him. She stands by the door, waiting for him to speak, just to make sure it's the same guard as before. "Your dinner, Ms. Griffin." He says, and she smiles when she recognizes the voice. After grabbing her tray and placing it safely on her bed she returned to the door. "You can call me Clarke, you know?" She began, hesitantly. On the other side of the heavy door he smiled. "Okay."

"What should I call you?"

"Bellamy. My name is Bellamy Blake."

Clarke allows the name to sit on her lips for a moment.

"Bellamy?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to need a pencil sharpener."

She slides the pencil through the groove and he grabs it, chuckling at the now worn-out tip.

"We'll see what I can do about that, princess."


	3. Bare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I cannot thank you enough for the kudos, you light up my day <3  
> Also, in reply to an anonymous question in my tumblr account: yes! you read correctly, Abby Griffin is chancellor in this AU.

 

> _The first thing I drew were my father's eyes._
> 
> _Maybe it was morbid, but that thought didn't come until the pencil's tip was gone and I was left with nothing to do. I was halfway through his face, but had successfully managed to capture the wrinkles around his eyes that were only there when he smiled from the heart. That was the way I wanted to remember him, that was the thing I was scared the most I would forget._

In the Ark you learn to be careful with your things, _especially_ with your treasures. Everyone treasures different things, Wells for example dusted his chess board and figures every day. His father smoked tobacco on his pipe only on very rare and festive occasions. Her mother treasured her wedding ring, it had been a family heirloom for centuries, and Clarke still couldn't believe the sparkling jewel had been born on the Ground. Jake Griffin religiously watched the tapes of what people used to call Olympic Games, even when he knew the outcome. Everyone treasures different things.

To Clarke, art supplies were her treasure.

Every since she was very little she had learned to memorize facts at school so she wouldn't have to write them down, every pen, every pencil, every color was cherished by the blonde who couldn't wait to turn them into art; using them for something as mundane as taking notes would have devastated her. Her oldest memory is going through the library books, absorbing everything there is to know about the Ground just to plaster it on her own rendition of the promised land. Mountains with faces carved on them, waters so clear and so calm that they mirrored the skies perfectly, buildings so tall they touched the clouds, parks so full with life and stories to witness.

She had treasured them when they were scarce. But now they were _precious._

When Bellamy comes back with her breakfast, two pencils more (one of them is not even the size of her fist, but she tears up at the sight of it anyway) and a pencil sharpener, Clarke's voice comes out in a grateful yet broken whisper. The blonde can't help but think of the collection of supplies she has gathered over the years. All the rusty cans filled with pencils that covered her desk, the paintings she had begged for and had been granted after proving herself useful with a paintbrush.

"You okay in there?" Bellamy asks after a moment.

After an embarrassingly long time just nodding Clarke realizes he cannot see her and clears her throat. "I'm fine. It's just weird, you know? You start to think you are getting used to something, and then you realize that you are not."

It is the guard's turn to remain silent, and Clarke starts wondering if what she said made as much sense out loud as it did inside her head. Minutes after when she is sure he has left the hallway already,  Bellamy clears his throat.

"I don't think you can ever get used to loneliness. Not even if you were born in it."

* * *

That is the day Clarke Griffin realizes there is not a single mirror in the bathroom. Every day for the last four months she has been handcuffed and escorted by three female guards that never failed to remind her she had under ten minutes to do whatever she needed in the bathroom.

"No funny business lady." Clarke murmured at the time the guard did, earning a piercing glare. She escaped it by entering the shower. The water came out perfectly clean, as there was not many thing she could do inside the cell that would get her dirty. Only her hands managed to taint the soap foam slightly since she had used her fingers to fix some shading in the drawings that now decorated the walls. Why the guards hadn't commented on them eluded her, but she figured that as long as she wasn't carving her way out with a spoon or hanging herself with the bed sheets the guards wouldn't give much importance to whatever she did.

The blonde had been so used to step out of the shower in her quarters and watch herself in the full length mirror in their bathroom. She was used to the way her golden waves curled and darkened when wet, she used to take in the blue of her eyes in contrast to the pale skin she had inherited. But when she was shoved into solitary confinement she had been too busy trying to mourn her father to notice the lack of mirrors. It hit her only then she hadn't seen her own face in four months. If she tried, would she remember what she looked like?

Probably not.

* * *

"What's your favorite color?" She asks when he comes to retrieve her dinner tray.

Bellamy barks a laugh, surprised. "I have honestly never thought about this." Clarke frowns behind the heavy door, who on their right mind gives no importance to colors?

"But red, I guess. It's the color of apples, and I like apples. And it's the color of the cheeks of my s-mother when she laughs. So yes, red."

The blonde has grown unaccustomed to read people's voices, and misses his words tripping over each other.

"What is yours?"

"Mine? My favorite color is aquamarine. You do realize that is a color that doesn't exist in the Ark? Only in pictures."

The guard remains silent, and Clarke presses herself to the metal door, but he is gone.

The next day in the morning, there is a red pencil on her breakfast tray (and the promise of an aquamarine one, soon.)


	4. Bewitched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks again for all your support, I hope you like this new chapter. Enjoy some Blake sibling love!

> _"Why do I have to stay inside?"_   
>  _"Because we are selfish, O. Remember Persephone? How when she went up the earth would break in spring and the flowers would grow? Mother and I, we like the spring to ourselves. You bring the flowers, and  we keep you here." It's easy to make a five year old feel special. A fifteen year old? Not so much._

It's embarrassing, but he actually has to ask his mother about the color aquamarine. Aurora Blake laughs kindly at her son and rolls her eyes. "O, hand me your mythology book, will you darling?" The teenager nods and carefully sets the piece of fabric she has been working on for the past hour or so. Once Aurora has the worn out book in her hands she flips through the pages expertly, her children have both read the stories countless times, and once in a while Aurora still reads out loud for Octavia, even though that is mostly Bellamy's job now.

She finally finds the page she has been looking for, one that displays an image of a beautiful goddess being born from the foam. "Aphrodite," Octavia whispers, and Aurora nods. His mother's finger lands on a particular part of the sea. "That's aquamarine, Bell."

The man stares a little too intently, and the woman raises an eyebrow at her son. "Since when are you so interested in colors?" Bellamy shrugged, grabbing the book and trying to put away the image of the beautiful shade of blue. "Someone mentioned it at work earlier, I was curious."

None of the women commented on his blush.

At night, when Octavia slides into  bed with him, she focuses her eyes on him until he speaks. "She was right. That color doesn't exist in the Ark but in pictures, in drawings. I've never seen anyone wear that color, or fabric in that shade of blue." His sister nods, but the answer is not enough for her.

"Who was right?"

"Her name's Clarke, she's one of the girls in solitary. The youngest one, actually. She will be in there for two years."

The girl nods and Bellamy kisses her hair, as if to tell her he wants to talk about it no more. They should go to sleep.

"Don't get in trouble," Octavia whispers after a while. Bellamy doesn't answer, he has no idea of what he could say. Something deep inside tells him he is already in trouble.

* * *

Pencils are easy to steal and bring to her, color pencils are the real problem. People keep pencils everywhere, and Bellamy has no trouble to pocket one or two when they aren't looking. But color pencils are found exclusively at classrooms, and in the rooms of those who ― like Clarke, or at least that was she had told him ― had shown some talent in painting and are commissioned to create images for the few books the Ark manufactured.

Bellamy was surprised to know that some of his favorite books were in fact illustrated by her.

"You really liked that one? I always thought the green eyes of the monster looked weird, but I couldn't exactly take artistic liberties with the _green-eyed monster._ " Boy, she was funny. But he liked it most when it was him who made _her_ laugh.

The red pencil he had given her first he found in his mother's desk. Days later Aurora Blake searches the small quarters for the missing pencil, but she finds it nowhere. Octavia arches an eyebrow to her brother, but one pleading look from Bellamy keeps the girl quiet.

His mother brings no more color pencils to the quarters, and Bellamy is left to his own devices.

The next colored pencil he is able to get his hands on is black, and even though he doesn't see much different between a _pencil_ and a _black colored pencil,_ Clarke gets more excited than ever, mumbling something about shadows and contrast.

"Oh Bellamy, if you could only get into my quarters." She whispered once, stroking the green color he had slid out of a child's backpack. He had felt so guilty he offered the kid a cookie the day after. What he liked most about kids is how forgiving they were. When Bellamy explained the situation he handed him a handful of colors. The security guard almost cried.

* * *

"Should I give them to her all at once?" he asked Octavia. The siblings were kneeling in front of their bed, the eight colored pencils were carefully arranged over the blanket. After caressing them softly, his sister shook her head at him.

"No, give them to her once in a while. You don't know when it will be the next time you will get your hands on more. It's better that way."

Bellamy nodded and smirked at her. "When did the little sister get so smart?"

"When did the older brother get so dumb?"

When Aurora arrives home her children stop tickling each other and hide the pencils with their pillow. If their mother suspect, she says nothing. They tie the colors together with a strand of fabric and hide it on Octavia's hole.

* * *

Bellamy strolled down the hall, gathering up the courage. But ten minutes later he had none, and he walked back to his job empty handed. After all what was he supposed to say?

_Excuse me Chancellor, I know I'm no one important but I think I might have a little crush in your daughter. It's weird because I have never seen her, I know. But I was wondering if you could let me into her room so I could grab her art supplies and smuggle them into her cell? She likes it when I do that and I like it when she's happy._

No, there is no way he can say that.


	5. Chancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long!! The past few days have been rough, but thank you so much for your patience, your kudos and your comments. They mean lots to me! <3

> _I've always hated the Ark._
> 
> _Its grey edges, its cold-hearted rules, its identical hallways, the ones that lead nowhere. Because no matter what direction you took in the Ark, you would always end in a grey room, or you would run into a door you weren't supposed to cross. The only good parts were the windows, the ones that allowed you to look outside. Into the stars, to the Ground._
> 
> _Now I find myself missing it. I'll take never-ending, pointless hallways over the same four grey walls any day._
> 
> _Too bad I don't have a choice._

The colored pencils are now her biggest treasure. Bellamy constantly brings over pencils, which she values enormously. But the colored pencils are special.

Whenever she draws _him_ he is always wearing a red shirt. Clarke knows that she is most probably mistaken, since he must be wearing the guard's uniform at all times, but in her mind Bellamy wears a red shirt.

She knows he's tall, because when she presses her ear against the door his voice always seem to come from a higher place. And the glimpses she gets of his skin when he hands her the pencils and the food trays allow her to know he doesn't have a skin as pale as hers, she likes that. Dark skin most probably mean dark hair.

If they lived on the Ground his skin would probably be kissed by the sun, freckles on his cheeks.

When his voice announces Bellamy's presence Clarke pretends she was just not thinking about that.

"What's up, Princess?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. I chose to stay in my cell today because the outside world is just _so_ boring," she teases.

If anyone else asked her everyday 'what's up?' even though they knew _nothing_ could ever  be up since she couldn't do _anything_ , she would have been annoyed beyond words. But with Bellamy she doesn't seem to mind, and she tries to make a funny remark every time he asks, just to hear him laugh. (Besides, "the ceiling" is a joke too lame for her to tell.)

The man chuckles and slides the tray inside her cell, she takes it, expecting her usual breakfast (nothing too nutritious, delicious or worth mentioning), and there it was, except it was not the only thing on her tray. For the first time it wasn't a pencil either.

"Oh, Bellamy," she whispers, touched. But no sound comes out. Her throat tightens.

Clarke leaves the tray on her bed, taking the thin book from it and caressing the cover. She can't remember when it was the last time she held one in her hands, the tears sting in her yes. Her silence has the usual effect on Bellamy: he starts rambling.

"I didn't know if you would like it, but I had to make sure it was thin so that I could hide it in my jacket and that it would fit through the groove. I mean, if you think it's boring that's alright, I can take it away and bring you another one? One about something you'd like. I don't know. I just thought you would like it because-"

Clarke laughs and that shuts him up. " _Thank you,"_ she says fervently, holding the book tightly against her chest.

* * *

"Hey Princess, dinner's here. Have you got to the part whe-"

"Shh. No spoilers."

* * *

 

The next morning when he comes to deliver the breakfast tray she slides the book through the groove, he grabs it.

"So?" He asks, and Clarke feels the door tremble slightly, he must have leaned against it.

"It was very funny, very interesting, and very lovely," she says finally, beaming. Too bad he can't see it.

"I knew you'd like it, well, at least I was hoping you would. This book never fails to cheer me up, the way Holden Caulfield thinks is both hilarious and fascinating."

"It's kind of sad too."

"True."

"Bellamy?"

"Yes?"

"Bring me your favorite book."

* * *

When the next day Bellamy hesitantly ― she knows this because of the way his hands tremble, making the tray tremble, as he slides it in ― gives her his favorite book she can't help but chuckle.

Because if someone was going to develop a crush on a huge mythology nerd she had never laid her eyes on, that would be her: Clarke Griffin.


	6. Chaotic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me posting a chapter before midnight! I'm proud of myself.  
> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments!

> _The library shift used to be my favorite one before I got assigned to solitary. I enjoy standing by the door, watching the children run their plump fingers through the bookshelves, picking one to get immersed on. I like to see the teenagers curled up in the couches, completely lost in the stories that had been written years ago, I love it when they laugh and yell at each other across the room when the science fiction book they had been working on said something outrageous. I always found it funny when adults grabbed a few classics, and snobbishly left the room pretending to wrinkle their noses at the young adult's "pseudo literature" but they sneaked Harry Potter out too._
> 
> _I always try to picture Octavia laughing with the other teenagers when they notice._

Taking the book to Clarke had been more than risky, and he knew it. But it had been more than a week since he had given her the last colored pencil (aquamarine, as he promised), and even though she didn't comment on it Bellamy felt the guilt building up in his chest, as if he had failed her.

He had grabbed the _Catcher on the Rye_ on his way out of the library at the end of his shift. By then he had memorized every detail of the door of her cell, the exact shade of gray, how thick the groove was (he knew immediately the book would fit perfectly through it), the small plaque beside it that read:

**Clarke Griffin. Sixteen. High Treason.**

 

But he hadn't been brave enough to give it to her during dinner.

In fact, if it hadn't been for Octavia he wouldn't have given it to her at all, but one pep talk from his favorite person in the universe was enough for him to toughen up and slide the book to her on the breakfast tray. He would never regret it.

* * *

"Did you give it to her?" O asks when he comes by to eat lunch with her, and he nods. "At breakfast."

His sister beams and bumps her shoulder against his as she grabs a bit of bacon. "Knew you weren't a total chicken."

"Do you think chickens are actually... well, you know _chickens?_ Like are they cowards?"

"You ask yourself the weirdest things, Bellamy."

"You have no idea."

* * *

 _Bring me your favorite book._ Her words fall one by one, making their way through his brain to his stomach. Because it's one thing to bring her a classic book, one that he was eighty percent sure she'd like. And it was a completely different thing to bring her the beat down, worn-by-the-years, broken-and-mended mythology book that had belonged to him ever since he could remember, only to have gifted it to Octavia when she was eight (she could already tell you all the stories anyway, but the intention it's what counts.)

Bellamy makes his way back to his quarters in a daze and knocks. "Mom, you visible?"

To the few people walking down the hall the question was very logic, they all lived in tiny quarters with bunk beds and little to no privacy. If Bellamy Blake shared a room with his mother he had to make sure not to barge into the seamstress changing, right? No one asked any questions, they looked straight and kept looking. That was one of the things Bellamy liked about his section, everyone stuck to their own business.

Inside the quarters Octavia was most probably pressing herself against the wall so that when Bellamy entered the room no one walking by would spot her.

"Yeah sweets, come in."

The second the door is closed Octavia tackles him, and the siblings roll through the floor, fighting for dominancy. Aurora Blake just rolls her eyes.

* * *

"She wants to read my favorite book." He whispers at night, and Octavia remains silent for a while.

"Will it fit through the groove?" And with that, Bellamy knows he has the best sister in the universe, because she is giving him permission to lend someone else their most sacred treasure.

* * *

Nervously, he slides the book after her breakfast tray. He has made sure a thousand times that no one is coming, and no one sees him slide the printed pages through the groove. Bellamy waits anxiously until her fingers grab the book from his and pull it in completely, disappearing from his sight. The wait seems a thousand years old, waiting for one of her snarky comments.

He just never expected she'd _laugh_. Bellamy holds his breath, trying hard not to be hurt.

"This is a children's book, Bell." Clarke says, and she sounds amused, but something about her voice makes him relax, because a voice on his head tells him  _she loves it._

"It was either this or a Ph.D paper on the importance of toads for the Ground's ecosystem, I figured you'd like this one better."

"Only because you know me too well."

The guard presses his ear to the door, it's thick  but he could swear he hears the pages rustling, he tries to imagine her going through his childhood book, but as always the image is incomplete, he has absolutely no idea how she looks.

"What's your favorite myth, then?" She asks after a while, once again her voice is hesitant at the end, as if she feared he had left already. And he should have, he was risking it by staying this long at her door, anyone could walk into him.

"I like many, Atalanta, Perseus, Penelope, Alala, Komodia..." He listed, once more shrugging before he realized she could not see him.

"So the women myths, huh?" The humor was almost palpable in her voice. He smirked.

"What can I say? I like hot, strong goddesses and I cannot lie."

* * *

"Bellamy?" She asks the day after, when at dinner she is sliding the book through the groove. (She had finished in the morning but had held on to it for a while longer).

"Yeah?"

"Say hi to Octavia for me."

Panic runs through his veins as her words sink in, because Octavia is the secret he has vowed to protect. His sister, his responsibility. The reason he had broken his nails lifting the floorboards that first time, the reason he stole food whenever he cold, the reason he could never have friends over on his quarters. No one could know about her, ever.

"W-what?"

Clarke had been trapped in solitary for the past six months, she could have no idea of Octavia. Of course unless she had _known_ before she had been thrown in there. But even then she wouldn't know her name, would she?

"Your book, at the back. It says _property of Octavia and Bellamy Blake._ That's your mother's name, isn't it? Octavia."

The relief is so strong Bellamy literally falls against the door, trying to catch his breath. "Yes, my mother."

* * *

Later that night, Bellamy hands Octavia the book and collapses on his bed face down. A little finger pokes his shoulder gently and he turns around with a groan. He expects to see his sister's face peering at him but he doesn't, she is hiding behind a sheet of paper.

He had sneaked in some blank paper sheets for Clarke a few weeks ago, that way she could hide some of her drawings and stop drawing on the walls. The paper had a beautiful woman with chaotic black hair, freckles on her cheeks and her plump red lips open in a war cry. " _Alala."_ His sister whispered and he nodded, grabbing it carefully.

Clarke not only took the time to draw one of his favorite goddesses, but she gifted it to him. She had wasted her precious colored pencils on _him_.

And she had even bothered to write a little note on the back:

> _Fun fact about toads, a group of them is called a knot._   
>  _Thanks for sharing this with me, Bell.  
>  -C_


	7. Delinquent

> _Time is an abstract concept in the Ark. You can't exactly gaze out of the window, look at the sky and think 'Oh damn, it's getting dark, time to sleep.' You **live** in the sky, and it's **always** dark. But there were clocks, and there were schedules, and there were things to do._
> 
> _In solitary the only notion of time I get is the visits Bellamy gives to me. Morning, afternoon, evening._
> 
> _The awful parts are those in between. Sometimes it feels as if I had just started drawing, or as if my head had just touched the hard pillow. Some others it feels like days before I hear his voice again._
> 
> _Waiting kills me._

The night after slipping in the drawing she made for him, Clarke doesn't sleep at all. The night stretches on and on as she tosses and turns on her bed. She wonders whether she should have given him the drawing of Apollo she had done, an Apollo with dark hair and freckles, just as she imagined him to be. But then she decides that her Alala drawing was probably the best idea. Still, she worries.

Would he find it right away? Would he take three weeks to open the book and see her modest gift? Clarke groaned and pressed her face into the rough pillow.

Deciding against sleeping, Clarke chooses to stand up and walk around her chamber. She ends up staring outside her window, the twinkling stars keep her company as the hours go by. The prisoner jumps startled when a knock is heard. It's almost ridiculous how fast she goes to meet him. Still, she waits for him to speak first, she always does.

"Those are some mad drawing skills, Princess," he compliments and Clarke beams as she receives the tray that he has started to slide through the groove.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"O-Mom liked it too, and she found your toad fun fact very, and I am quoting, 'funny'"

Clarke giggles and leans against the door, sliding down until she is sitting down, her back pressed against the door, her ears open for when Bellamy speaks again. She realizes only then she is famished and starts to work on her breakfast, smiling at the two pencils that stare at her from the tray.

"Thanks for the pencils, Bell."

"No problem." Bellamy's voice has that edge of nervousness again, the one he always showed whenever he felt they had talked for too long, and even if he had never explained it to her she knows why. If anyone caught him engaging in conversation with her, they would immediately assume she was revealing her father's secret to him. But Bellamy wouldn't be thrown into solitary, he would be floated. And the sole thought made Clarke lose appetite.

"I'll see you later, okay?" She lets out, only then realizing that it is a very stupid thing to say.

Is it her or is there a small, sad smile printed on his voice? "See you later, Princess."

* * *

Clarke eyes the wall carefully. In all the movies she had seen, the prisoners used their nails to scratch tally marks on the walls. She knew that trying to scratch the metal with her nails would have only broke them and made a bloody mess of her fingers, so she hadn't tried. But she had done a very thin line with the first pencil Bellamy had ever given to her.

She had repeated the same procedure every morning after that.

Clarke eyed the seventy three tally marks, all carefully drawn, none larger than the others. She sighed and added the seventy fourth

* * *

"Bell can I ask you something?"

"Sure Princess."

"What day is it?"

"It's June 6th."

Bellamy nods and makes a mental note to add the date to her tally mark calendar.

"Can I ask something else?"

"Only if I get to ask a question too."

"Alright."

"Then shoot."

"What do you look like?"

There's a long silence (or at least to Clarke it seems interminable) before Bellamy laughs.

"I was going to ask you the same."

"You don't remember what you look like? I don't think I'm the right person to come for help..."

"Oh shut up, Princess."

* * *

Clarke fiddles nervously with the paper in her hands. To be perfectly honest, she has a hard time thinking that the self-portrait she did is completely accurate. She hasn't seen herself in a mirror in more than six months, and the only glances she gets of herself are those of the faint reflection of her face in the window when she is staring out into the sky.

"Room service!" The smile comes without any warning, and Clarke rushes to the door, her fingers still playing with the paper.

"Is it the champagne and chocolate covered strawberries I ordered?"

"We ran out of those, so I got the second best thing I could find."

Clarke giggles and receives the tray. Neatly folded there's a piece of paper there, and she grabs it quickly. As Bellamy claimed he had no more artistic talent than a sponge would, they had decided she'd do a self portrait, and Bellamy would write a throughout description of his face.

With trembling fingers she slides her own paper through the groove, Bellamy grabs it.

There is a small silence after that and Clarke starts nibbling on her lip without even realizing.

"You seem a little pale, Princess. We better take you out to get some sun." He whispers after a while and Clarke lets out the breath she had been holding, along with a shaky laugh. "And by that, I mean you are very beautiful."

* * *

The days wore off and Clarke obsessively attempted to sketch a face that matched all the points he had given to her (she had been more than delighted when she read that he indeed had freckles, just like she had imagined). But none of her sketches satisfied her, and she didn't dare ask him for a photograph.

One day, a few minutes ― it could have been hours, actually, but she could never be sure ― after Bellamy left after giving her lunch, the heavy metal door opens. The two female guards that took her to the bathroom everyday stand outside the cell and make no comment on Clarke watching them astonished, her eyes about to pop out of her head.

"Get up. Hands on your back."

Clarke had already gone to the bathroom once that day.

They never took her out twice.

_They are going to float me._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because a record of three people asked for it, Bellamy gets to sort of see Clarke! Thanks percalarke for the idea!!  
> And thank you all for your kind comments and your kudos <3


	8. Destroyed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so sorry it took this long, but hopefully you will like this chapter and forgive me. Thank you for your kind words and your kudos!! <3

> _She's not only beautiful, but familiar. Because I've seen her before._
> 
> _No matter how many times our mother would insist on her not running around with scissors, Octavia had fallen down and wounded herself badly. Without hesitation I replicated the wound on my own skin and walked up to medical, where a blonde young girl was sitting down, reading. She seemed to be practicing for a nurse, because her hands trembled softly as she bandaged my wound, my eyes taking in every movement carefully, ready to replicate them on Octavia._
> 
> _I could have sworn she saw me stealing one of the first aid kits, and I cringed the whole way to my quarters, waiting for her to send the alarm. But she didn't._

It is difficult for Bellamy not to take out her drawing a million times during the day, but he knows it would be stupid and dangerous to do it, so he consoles himself with taking his hand to his pocket from the outside and making sure it still there. For the first time since he told her about Clarke, he doesn't share the day's events with Octavia, this is something he wants for himself.

So late at night, when he is sure his sister is asleep, he allows himself to take the drawing out and squint his eyes at it, trying to make out the lines in the darkness. Luckily for him, he now has a memory to go with the drawing and the sound of her voice, her laughter.

Now that he remembers Clarke turning a blind eye to him stealing medical supplies, he has no trouble imagining why is it that she was put on solitary. If she had done that for him, a complete stranger with seemingly no reasons to steal bandages, what hadn't she done for others? For her friends? For her father?

Bellamy had heard that the chancellor's husband had been floated. And it was around the same time that Clarke was incarcerated. Could those two events be related? Most probably yes. But as much as he wanted to ask her how she had ended up in the Sky Box, he couldn't risk losing their friendship, not over something like that.

No, he couldn't risk losing Clarke at all.

* * *

The scariest moments in Bellamy's life had revolved around Octavia.

Octavia as a baby, crying all night and risking getting caught. Octavia bleeding, and a ten year old Bellamy unsure on how to make it stop. Octavia sick with fever, and having to stay underneath the floorboards because a guard was going to come check in any moment. Octavia almost getting caught. Octavia threatening with running away. Octavia fainting because she didn't have enough to eat.

_Octavia. Octavia. Octavia._

But all those moments were in the past, and the emotions are always stronger in the moment, not when you are looking back at them. So the panic he remembered feeling in the past, is nothing compared to knocking on Clarke's door and finding it open.

How many times hadn't he imagined crossing that door? He would smile at Clarke and they would just talk like real people do, with no metal doors in between them, with no walls muffling her laughter. They could read books together, he could watch her getting lost in a drawing, Clarke could listen to him telling her stories of God's and emperors. 

But when he finally crosses that threshold he finds himself in an empty room. Clarke's drawings on the walls, tally marks counting the days she had been trapped, paper sheets and pencils badly concealed underneath her mattress.

No sight of her.

* * *

Bellamy takes a while to calm down after he found Clarke's cell empty, even though his first impulse is to run down the hall calling out her name. He grabs all her art supplies and drawings, in hopes that it would spare her from any problems. Not like he could do anything about the sketches on her walls, but he hopes they are not the reason she is out. The mere thought makes him shiver and he has to start breathing deeply again in order to calm down.

If his presents are the reason she is out, if she is in trouble because of him. Then he will never forgive himself.

"Chancellor Griffin is badly ill,"  his superior says without looking up. "Prisoner Griffin has been taken out for a day to spend with her mother, special orders."

Bellamy's heart falls to his feet and he takes a relieved breath.

"I know," the man says from behind his desk, mistaking Bellamy's relieved sigh for a sign of disagreement. "They are all criminals, in there. And none of them should be treated differently just because they are the chancellor's little princess, especially not if they are in solitary." He scoffs.

"Anything else I can help you with?" He finally gives Bellamy a look, and he straightens his face.

Bellamy shakes his head before clearing his throat. "No sir, thank you."

"Back to duty, then."

Bellamy decides he doesn't like anyone else calling Clarke 'princess'.

* * *

He's stalling for time, and he is about to run out of reasons to remain at the Sky Box. First he volunteered to help with dinner, and then to clean up, to count the prisoners.  He delivered the dinner to the other prisoners on solitary and walked slightly slower than usual. He just _has_ to stay long enough to see her again.

"Come on Blake, go home. Your mom will get worried," a fellow guard says and he nods, sighing. "Just take this tray over to the chancellor's daughter and leave it on her bed. She might be hungry when she gets here."

Without hesitating, Bellamy walks the very familiar path to Clarke's cell, this time letting himself in and setting the tray on her bed, hiding her papers underneath it, placing her pencils bellow her pillow. He is making his way down the corridor when he sees her.

She's being escorted by two guards, her hands are handcuffed behind her back. Her blonde hair isn't made of gentle curls as it had been before, it's now long and messy . Her cheeks seem pale and her eyes are puffy. But it's her, and Clarke always looks beautiful.

Before he knows what he is doing he calls out her name.

 

 


	9. Emotive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos!! You have no idea how happy you make me!!  
> Also, maybe vote for my fanfiction Off With His Head [here](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/drabble:bestmodern)?

> _"What are you doing Clarke?" Wells' voice brought me out of my thoughts and I look over my shoulder to smile at him, after a second I turned back to the contents of  the first aid kit and put them back in their place. I decided to share my doubts with Wells._
> 
> _"Why would anyone steal a first aid kit, Wells?"_
> 
> **_"You stole a first aid kit?!"_ **
> 
> _"Not me, stupid. A guy I healed earlier. He came in with a huge gash and on his way out he grabbed one of these... there are no medicines in it to drug himself with, and not nearly enough alcohol to be worth the risk. So **why** did he want it?"_
> 
> _"Clarke, you have to report this."_
> 
> _"No! Promise me, Wells. **Swear** to me you won't tell anyone."_
> 
> _"Alright, alright. I swear. But why do you care, anyway?"_
> 
> _"I don't know."_

 

"I'm still sixteen, you can't float me!" Clarke bursts out when they are halfway through the corridor, starting to fight over the guard's hold,  her lower lip is trembling but she does her best to seem though. The least thing she expected was for them to laugh at her.

"We are not floating you, Griffin. We are taking you to your mother."

Clarke joins the dots quickly, not giving time for the relief to wash over her, because she knows how fervently her mother had argued for the Council not to lock her down, yet no one had listened. The rules are the rules and they can't be broken. But they can be _bent_. And if they are taking her out in handcuffs, something must be very wrong with her mother. She keeps quiet for the rest of the walk, but she doesn't calm down until they pass the corridor where floatings take place. A few minutes later she remembers her father in that very same room and she loses her nerve again.

The doors to her quarters open and she steps in, looking around the too-familiar room. The guards take off her handcuffs and warn her sternly of not trying anything stupid. Before she can come up with a sassy reply, her  mother croaks her name.

Clarke rushes to her mother's bed, taking in the image before her.

Abby Griffin is pale, her lips are cracked and she breathes heavily. Still, Clarke has never been happier to see her. In less than a heartbeat she is wrapping her arms tightly around her mother and burying her face into her neck, breathing her in. The familiar scent of her mom makes her eyes water and she holds on tighter onto her.

"I know baby, I missed you too."

* * *

The food in the Ark has never been very good. When in books she found passages describing their meals, her mouth would water; back then she would have given her right arm to have a delicious, juicy turkey or to try chocolate cake. But the food they give to her in solitary is even worse.

When two guards enter the room to leave dinner for both of them, Clarke practically throws herself over one of the apples, biting it and forgetting about her manners completely.

It's the most delicious thing she has ever eaten. When she looks up to her mother, Abby is looking away, hiding the tears in her eyes.

Back then, Clarke used to tell Abby everything. Her crushes, her dreams, her ambitions, her fears.It had all changed when he overheard their parents fighting over the flaw in life support. When she realized her father was about to go public she didn't tell her mother, and she regretted it every day. Maybe if she had told her she could have stopped her, maybe Abby could have saved her father. 

That had been the one thing Clarke kept from her mother, and it had backfired. Still, she couldn't bring herself to talk to her about Bellamy.

* * *

"You are going to be okay? You promise?" Clarke is kneeling down next to her mother's bed, and Abby smiles, sitting up effortlessly.

"You want to know the truth?" Clarke nods confused. "I'm not half as sick as I pretend to be. I just wanted to see if they would pity me and let me see you." Abby plays with one of Clarke's hairs, and the girl bursts out laughing while the tears run down her eyes, her mother pulls her into a hug and Clarke closes her eyes tightly. 

"I'm glad it worked."

"Me too, baby. Me too."

* * *

When Clarke is escorted outside of her mother's room, two men are outside waiting for her. Thelonius steps forward and Wells half hides behind his father.  _That coward._

"It's good to see you Clarke." The older man greets, offering her a hand and entirely forgetting that she is handcuffed. 

It's difficult for her to decide whom she hates more: the man that had floated her father or the boy who had given him away. With a sharp nod, she acknowledged them both and attempted to start walking, but her guards pull her back.

"Respect your Chancellor." One of them spits out at the same time Wells steps forward.

"Don't hurt her!"

But Clarke doesn't stop to feel touched about Wells worrying about her, she is more worried about the Chancellor pin that indeed sparkles in Thelonius Jaha's sweater, almost mocking her. Because if he has stepped up as chancellor, it's because Abby has lied to her: she is not going to be okay.

Clarke cries the whole walk back to her cell, trying to ignore Well's voice, begging her to forgive him.

* * *

It isn't until she hears her name from a very different set of lips that she looks up. Because even though his voice is desperate, and a little too loud, she'd recognize Bellamy's voice anywhere.

Their eyes lock together and for a moment it is as if nothing else existed. Clarke's face breaks into a smile as she takes in Bellamy's features, making sure to take notes of every detail, every freckle. For once there is not a wall between them, they can look at each other in the eye and talk, laugh together, _be_ together. 

Except that they can't.

Soon, too soon, the guard pushes her into her cell and shuts the door behind her, Clarke is only able to catch another glimpse of Bellamy, who seems to be trying to peek inside her cell.

She waits next to her door, hoping that he will approach it to speak to her, but he doesn't.

Hours later Clarke makes her way to her bed, defeated, tired and still kind of elated. Underneath the dinner she has absolutely no intention of touching, her drawings are organized neatly, her pillow is hiding her pencils and she knows it must have been him.

She lays down and tries to sleep, but his face won't stop popping into her head, and Clarke tosses and turns trying to understand _why._ Something about his face is strangely familiar, but _what?_

Later, when her eyelids turn heavy and her breathing slows down she remembers. She remembers it all.

Clarke remembers her hair being up in a pony tail, her eyes fixed on a book when a boy slightly older than her entered the room. She was only fourteen, but she was already training to be a nurse, therefore she had been in charge of bandaging his awful wound. She remembers her hands trembling, but it was only because he was handsome, he was so handsome he made her nervous.

Even now, two years later, she blushed at the memory. If anything, he had only gotten more handsome with time.

He had been the guy that stole the first aid kit, he had been Clarke's first crime but not the last. After that moment, Clarke started noticing people pocketing food in the cafeteria, bandages that went missing from the infirmary, books that never got returned. But she never dared turn them in. She couldn't stand the idea of them getting floated.

And now, now she was more than glad she hadn't reported Bellamy's theft. The very thought of losing him to the cold void that was space tortured her.

* * *

The day after, Clarke is basically bouncing on the balls of her feet, impatient to talk to Bellamy. And when she hears knocking on her door she rushes to it, forgetting to check the groove for the tray. She waits for him to speak, until he does.

"You want the tray or not?" He spits, and Clarke almost drops it to the ground.

Because the man talking is not Bellamy.


	10. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took forever! I am sorry for the huge cliffhanger. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for your love and your patience!

> _I haven't seen her in a week. That's seven days without hearing her voice._
> 
> _I've never been this long away from my sister._
> 
> _I can't stop thinking about her, about how much I miss her. I can't stop worrying about her._
> 
> _I can't stop thinking about Clarke either, about her smile, her eyes scanning my face as if they wanted to remember every single detail of it, the way she tried to steal one more glance at me after they pushed her into her cell. The way the world seemed to disappear around us when our eyes locked._
> 
> _I can't stop worrying about her either, what if she is in trouble? What if **I** got her in trouble? I miss her._
> 
> _I miss my sister._

The door shuts between the two of them and Bellamy blinks a few times, trying to break the spell that has formed around them. Soon, the glare coming from the two guards helps him clear his thoughts too, and Bellamy realizes the stupidity of what he just did.

"What the hell was that, Blake?"

After a second, Bellamy is able to pull the smug mask that he wears around all the time, shrugging. "I'd seen her around before, alright? And you all freaked me out earlier when her cell was empty, next time you let out a prisoner let me know so I don't make an unnecessary trip."

One of the guards continues to glare at him, but the other relaxes and rolls her eyes at him.

"On the other hand, it wasn't a complete waste of my time if I got to see you," Bellamy flirted, winking at her. Her stupid giggle follows him as he walks down the hall, but he doesn't think twice of it as a quite different laughter echoes in his head.

He just can't wait to speak to her again.

* * *

"Bellamy you are blushing. Look at you! Bell, you are all red." Octavia comments as he crosses the door, giggling. Her brother laughs and chases her around the room until he finally catches her and tickles until Octavia admits she must have been mistaken. Bellamy presses his lips to his mother's cheek, and Aurora's amused smile disappears. She narrows her eyes at him.

"O, I'd like it if you slept with me tonight," she says simply, going back to her sewing. Bellamy's heart drops to his feet and the color drains from his face.

Octavia protests and looks up to her brother for support, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn't side up with her.

* * *

"How bad is it?" He asks the next day when he wakes up to his mother's hand on his forehead.

"Bad enough." Those words make Bellamy wince and he nods, standing up. He knows what they mean, they mean he has to go.

So he grabs a few clothes and caresses Octavia's face on his way out, the girl clings to his brother's burning hand for a second before letting go. His mother walks him to the infirmary, and it doesn't take long for Bellamy to realize that she is right: overnight his fever has increased, and a cold sweat has installed on his forehead. Whatever it is, it is most likely contagious, and they don't take those risks lightly.

After the incident with the scissors , Bellamy and Aurora realized he couldn't go around stabbing himself  and robbing the infirmary whenever Octavia was in trouble, which meant they'd have to reduce the odds of the little girl getting sick. So Aurora had found a friend who smuggled out medicines and insisted on them spending a few nights on the infirmary whenever they were sick, just to avoid spreading the illness in their quarters.

He was helpful, yes. But despite that Bellamy hates him, the way his lips curl when they walk into the infirmary and how he brushes them against his mother's cheek.

He hates all of her friends.

* * *

Bellamy has always had a very vivid imagination, he had often had to make up stories to quiet Octavia's crying and he had often carried her around the room on his back pretending they were running away from gorillas in the jungle. That imagination didn't wear off with time, and it certainly didn't go away as he slept. Every night he had a crazier dream than the last.

The fever just makes them worse, and sleeping in an empty bed in the empty infirmary doesn't help either.

The nightmares aren't common, but when they come they are particularly hideous. And for the first time, Bellamy dreams of Clarke. He dreams of her golden hair running down the Sky Box's corridor, she runs towards him and he gets to hold her in his arms for the shortest of seconds before she is taken away. "I'm sorry, Bellamy... I'm sorry," she cries as she is dragged far from him, and no matter how fast he runs he is never able to catch up with her.

The usual image of opening the door to an empty quarter haunts him, in the dream he yanks the floorboards and cries out his sister's name, just to be answered with silence. He wakes up covered in sweat, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. It is around three in the morning and he has to keep himself from making the way across the Ark to check up on Octavia.

It is hard.            

* * *

"O sends you this." Aurora says three days later, leaving his mythology book on his lap. When Bellamy picks it up, a gentle smile on his face, he realizes it is slightly thicker than usual. So he knows that Octavia has probably sneaked in a letter for him, or maybe some of Clarke's drawings.

He looks up to thank  his mother for it, and he realizes he is in trouble.

Instead of his mother's face, Bellamy finds himself staring into a drawing, which she brings down in order to look at him, her lips are pressed together and her eyes sparkle anger.

"This fell down while I was walking down here." She comments, and Bellamy sighs, the Icarus drawing falling on his bed, slightly crumpled. He looks down to it and his eyes fall on Clarke's signature.

> _Love, Clarke G._
> 
> _P.S Say hi to Octavia for me!_

"It's not what you think," he begins, but Aurora cuts him short.

"She is in for treason, Bellamy. For _spilling_ someone else's secrets. Don't you see?" His mother took her hand to the bridge of her nose, pressing it; a trait he had inherited from her. "You think just because you are nice to her and you bring her stolen art supplies now and then she won't spill _your_ secrets to save her own ass?"

"You don't know her." Bellamy spits those words, even though he knew he could do much better to defend his case, but as sudden urge to defend Clarke's honor overcomes him.

"Well, neither do you!" Aurora spits back, Bellamy opens his mouth, wounded. "They are all the same, Bell. Those on top, they are all the damn same. I heard she got out a few days ago for a 'visit'." She scoffed, drawing air quotes in disdain. "If it had been _you_ in there, and it had been _me_ on my deathbed, they wouldn't have let you out to spend a fucking day with me, not a chance. And if we weren't garbage enough for them, you go and tell her about your sis-"

"I told her my mother's name was Octavia," Bellamy lets out, cutting his mother's speech. "She saw our names in the mythology book and she asked, I told her it was _you._ I trust her, mom. But I still wouldn't risk anyone hearing us. I'm not stupid, you know?"

Aurora seems ashamed for a second, but that second goes by too soon. Eventually she sighs and stands up. "Your sister, your responsibility," she reminds him sternly before adding. "Don't throw it all away for a stupid crush."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my writing, maybe vote for my fanfiction Off With His Head [here](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/drabble:bestmodern)?  
> Thank you!


	11. Faithless

> _Until now I hadn't noticed that they clean my cell when they take me out for my daily shower. I'm surprised that they haven't yet said anything about the drawings on my walls and the pencils underneath my pillows. But maybe now that he has called my name they will join the dots and confront him, the smuggling will be brought up and then I will most certainly lose him._

After the strange man speaks Clarke has to take a moment for her heart to settle down. She is still holding the tray of food in her hand and once she realizes that she places it on the floor, sitting next to it as she tries to process what happened the day before.

Her mother is dying. Wells is sorry. Bellamy is gone.

The tray of food seems even less appealing than usual now. Clarke buries her face into her hands, trying to find something to hold on to. But she knows there is nothing. If Bellamy doesn't come back, if her mother dies, there's nothing but waiting for a year and a half to be floated.

And that train of thought keeps her occupied enough time for the guard to return hours later with her lunch, this time he doesn't talk when she takes a moment to grab the tray, but as she hears the steps walking away she knows it's not Bellamy. He would have never left without saying goodbye.

* * *

After three days ― or at least, nine meal trays ― Clarke clears her throat as the tray is slid through the door. "Can you tell me how my mother is doing?" She asks hopefully, her voice small and nothing like it used to be when she engaged into conversations with Bellamy. After a few seconds that stretch tortuously, the guard clears his throat and backs away. When he speaks, his voice sounds like he is already leaving the hallway. "Interaction with the prisoners is strictly forbidden," he reminds her, leaving her on her own.

Clarke throws her tray across the room and cries when she realizes the sketches of her mother have been stained by something inedible.

She tries again when she is taken out for her shower, but the female guards share a look before silently throwing her into the bathroom, and Clarke loses hope on getting her questions answered. She loses hope in a lot of stuff on that moment. Answers, her mother's life, Well's friendship, seeing Bellamy again, or at the very least talking to him, the hope vanishes as her hot tears mix with the water that is always too cold.

When she returns, the food is wiped from the wall, and the drawing of Abby Griffin smiling is smudged in the wall, but the pencil is too heavy in her hand and she can't bring herself to retouch the sketch, leaving the blur on the wall and finding her way to the uncomfortable cot. Clarke is still laying down when lunch comes, and a few minutes after, the guard gives up on waiting and merely lets the tray fall to the ground. The dinner tray piles up over it hours later. Clarke doesn't flinch.

* * *

Every morning, the guards practically have to drag her out of the cell to get her to the shower. While walking down the corridors they remind her that starving herself to death won't land her in the medical bay, that it won't bring her close to her mother, it will only speed her floating. Clarke pretends not to consider the idea as she washes herself without putting much thought to her movements. Still, when she walks back into her room she goes straight to the cot and curls up on it.

Once in a while, the pain caused by hunger is too strong that it distracts her from missing her mother, from missing her old life. And she stuffs whatever it is that was brought to her into her mouth and quiets down the hunger, focusing instead on anything but the grey walls that continue to surround her.

Her feet shuffle from the shower to her cot, and she keeps finding strands of golden hair everywhere, when she rubs her face her cheekbones stab her palms and her hands tremble when she reaches out for something to eat. Still, all her strength seems to come back when he calls her name. Clarke presses herself to the door and swallows hard, waiting for him to speak again, to confirm his identity. But the guard drops the dinner tray to the ground and Clarke knows it cannot be him, because Bellamy would never do something like that. She kicks the trays this time and the food is gone when she comes back from her shower the next morning

* * *

 

The hallucinations continue, especially when she has spent a long time without eating. In the hallways she gets glimpses of freckled boys and untamed dark curls, the guards have to drag her to the shower so she doesn't run towards someone that isn't really there. When she hears her voice she rushes to the door, and sometimes falls to her knees in front of it, slamming her fists into the metal, but he never replies.

It's been sixteen days and Clarke remains unsure if her mother is still alive, if Bellamy is still alive.

One day, not even the ghost of his voice is able to bring her out of the cot, and the pang of hunger is not enough to make her grab something from the tray. The hallucination insists, though.

"Clarke? Come on, I know you are in there. Unless you carved your way out with a spoon, in which case I find it very rude that you haven't come see me." Clarke is amazed on how well she remembers his awkward chuckle, too well for her mind to play tricks on her, apparently. A few minutes later the hallucination goes away, but it takes the tray with it, leaving Clarke on her own for a moment before the voice comes back, and not alone this time.

"Just toss the tray in, if she doesn't grab it, that's her business Blake. You have other things to do, don't waste my time trying to play hero." An unknown voice drifts away and Clarke looks up, a very well known sigh is heard and steps approach her cell.

"Clarke _please,_ " he begs and she stands from her bed with wobbly legs, pressing herself against the cold metal, opening her mouth and closing it without breathing out any words for a couple of times. How many times can she take the disappointment before she can't anymore? But one look at the tray makes her gasp loudly as she spots the aquamarine pencil on it.

With trembling hands she picks up the trash and places it neatly on the ground, her fingers holding on tightly to the physical proof that Bellamy is back. " _It's you,_ " she croaks out with a voice that has obviously not been used in a long time.

"Of course it's me, princess."


	12. Found

> _"You like her don't you?" The kid asks and I smile, nodding._
> 
> _"A lot."_
> 
> _"I'll get you the aquamarine color, then. No cookie required!" The kid darts off to class and I'm left smiling, in just a few hours I'll get to hear her voice again._

His mother barely looks at him as they discharge Bellamy from the medical bay, her friend's fingers wrinkle her shirt around her waist and he looks away disgusted. They make their way silently back to their quarters, and he know Aurora wants to bring Clarke up, but that she is aware of the futility of the discussion. Whatever she says, Bellamy is not giving her up.

They enter the quarters and Octavia comes out from her hideout, running into her brother's arms immediately. _I might be crazy, but I could swear she had grown at least three inches since I last saw her._ He thinks as he lifts her in the air, beaming. "Bell!" She cries out as she hugs him tightly, and Bellamy catches a glimpse of his mother smiling at her sons' reunion.

"I was so worried Bell, and I didn't like sleeping on my own..." she confesses and he smiles fondly at her, stroking the side of her face.

"It's a good thing I'm back then, and I have absolutely no intentions of going away anytime soon. I missed you too much, O."

* * *

Bellamy's hand fiddles with the aquamarine color all the way to the Sky Box. His mother assured him that she had spoken to my superior to let him know he was sick, and he is aware that they all depend too much on his salary and his advantaged position for her to risk him losing his job over her prejudices against Clarke. But still, Bellamy remember too vividly the stare of the guard when he called out her name. He had done it so thoughtlessly, so desperate to get her attention, to lock his eyes with hers. For a moment there it was just the two of them, just for him to be abruptly reminded that he shouldn't know who she was, much less want to see her.

There is a small probably that incident has been reported.

That he would  never see her again.

Carefully, he slides the color in his pocket before he gets to the Sky Box, a few guards greet him and Bellamy nods nonchalantly to his coworkers. So far, no evidence that he has been fired, but still nervous he continues to walk.

He checks in and receives his instructions, attempting to conceal his huge smile when he eyes the familiar schedule. After an hour of patrolling the Box's  hallways he will retrieve the trays in the kitchen to take them to the prisoners in solitary confinement. He is just a little more than an hour away from listening to her voice again. And later in the day he will be sent to stand guard in the library, which means Bellamy could actually bring her a book or two to make up for his absence.

Unfortunately, his excitement doesn't help to make time go faster.

The hour in patrol goes agonizingly slow and Bellamy's hand often finds its way to his pocket, palming the pencil color and reassuring himself with the knowledge that it was still there, and that in less than an hour, it would be with Clarke.

Just like him.

* * *

"Hey Clarke," he says as he slides half of the tray into the cell, waiting for her to take it. His cheeks are threatening to break with the size of his grin and he is impatient to hear her voice again.

Except that he doesn't, because Clarke doesn't answer.

Bellamy calls out her name once more, no sound comes from inside the cell. "Clarke? Come on, I know you are in there. Unless you carved your way out with a spoon, in which case I find it very rude that you haven't come see me," he attempts to joke, an awkward and nervous laugh finds its way out of his lips but still the blonde gives no signs of life.

He knows she _has_ to be in there, otherwise he wouldn't have been told to take the tray to her. But the memory of finding the door open and her cell empty enters his mind and his heart drops to the floor.

_She can't... they couldn't... she's too young._

With trembling hands he retrieves the tray, leaves it on the small cart he uses to carry the food and practically runs towards his boss' office.

"Sir, sir there's something wrong with C- Prisoner 319," he pants as he crosses the door, and before he knows what is happening both men are rushing towards her cell. When his boss notices the door closed and everything seemingly in order he eyes Bellamy, obviously annoyed.

"What, Blake?"

"She... she won't grab the tray, I know I've been gone and all. But if she is not eating don't you think we sh-"

"Just toss the tray in, if she doesn't grab it, that's her business Blake. You have other things to do, don't waste my time trying to play hero," he snaps exasperated, and before Bellamy has a chance to apologize the man is making his way down the hall.

Left alone with the cold metal of her door, Bellamy presses himself to it to try and hear something from inside. There's nothing but silence.

"Clarke, _please,"_ he begs as he slides the tray halfway into the cell once again, this time with the aquamarine pencil on it, in hopes it would spark the laughter that he has missed for the past two weeks.

Bellamy listens to the shuffling of her feet and his heart races when she grabs the tray, _almost_ letting out a relieved sigh when she gasps.

" _It's you,"_ she chokes out. And out of nowhere Bellamy finds a knot on his own throat.

"Of course it's me, princess," he reassures, his forehead pressed to the cold metal, wishing more than ever that there was not a closed door keeping them apart. "Sorry I'm late."

"I-I thought you had been caught, that they had f-floated you! Damn it Bellamy, where were you?"

"Oh, you know. I took my family for a small beach vacation..." he teases, and she lets out a small indignant laugh, but there is still amusement in her tone and Bellamy sighs relieved. "I was sick, nothing major, just a fever. But I was bed bound, sadly. Luckily I had your drawings to keep me company."

He regrets what he said the moment it leaves his tongue, because he had the drawings to keep her company. But who was keeping Clarke company? Obviously no one around cared enough for her to eat, to laugh.

Anger raises on the pit of his stomach and it doesn't leave, but Bellamy manages to keep it off his tone when he dares saying.

"I missed you, Princess. A lot."

There's a short pause that to him seems unbearably long before she answers, and he could swear there is a smile impregnated in her voice.

"I missed you too."


	13. Given

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's been too long since I last updated this fic and for that I am so so sorry! I'll be trying to post a chapter a week from now on, I promise. Thank you so much for being this supportive and patient! I hope you like this chapter (:

> _“What would you do if you got to spend a day in the Ground?”_
> 
> _“Why waste our time on those hypothesis, Clarke? We are never going to the Ground… not us at least. Our kids, maybe.”_
> 
> _“Kid. We only get one.”_

Clarke was sure that showing such an immediate recovery from her previous depressed state would draw attention from her guards, and that it would take them no time to link it to Bellamy’s return. But since no one had mentioned a thing about the smuggled art supplies, books and the paintings that covered the walls, she thought she might risk it. Bellamy seemed to share her opinion, since he allowed her to keep the books he brought for longer and actually engaged in longer conversations than he had before.  

He also brought information on her mother’s status, not that it was reassuring in any way.

“I could tell her… you know?”

“Tell her what?”

“That I talk to you, that if she wants she could write you a letter. Or you could write her a letter and I’d deliver that for you.” Clarke swallowed hard at Bellamy’s proposal. It was tempting, of course. To hear something from her mother that was not gossip Bellamy overheard in the cafeteria. But of course, it was that gossip that worried her.

“What if someone hears you? Or sees you smuggling letters with the Chancellor? They’ll fire you for sure.” _They’ll float you. Both of you._

Bellamy sighed from the other side of the wall and Clarke did too, pressing her forehead against the cold metal that separated them.

* * *

 

Time definitely went by faster. Clarke spent hours and hours with her nose buried in the slim books that Bellamy slid through the groove on her door. Ancient tales of Romans and Greeks filled her days as she marked each passing day with a careful mark next to the others.

“What would you do, if you got a day on the Ground, Bell?” She asked one day, the dreaded date would be tomorrow, and Clarke tried at all costs to avoid eyeing her rustic calendar.

“Well, I wouldn’t waste one damn second gazing the stars, that’s for sure,” Bellamy replied after a moment, making her laugh. “I think I’d explore, try to search for books, movies… anything really, anything that had survived the war.”

Clarke smiled softly, nodding. It was exactly the answer she expected from him.

“What about you?”

“There is so much I want to do, I just… I wouldn’t be able to decide.” She chuckled. “I might take some pictures, smell flowers… you know, corny things like that.”

It was his turn to laugh, but then he took the empty dinner tray with him and Clarke was left alone and with the impending menace of her birthday the next day.

* * *

 

Birthdays in the Ark don’t mean much, really. There are three birthdays that matter: when you turn six, because it means you are most likely to survive; when you turn eighteen, because it means that you can get floated; when you turn twenty one, because you get assigned your own quarters.

There’s almost never cake, or party or presents. Clarke, on the other hand, had always been privileged and every year she got something. Whether it was a new set of art supplies, or a new book on art techniques or just one big cookie. Wells always indulged her on her birthdays, and her father always managed to find a film they had yet to see for them to watch in the evening.

_You should always celebrate life, Clarke. God knows it’s something uncommon lately._

Clarke missed him a lot before she even opened her eyes the next morning. Missing her father had turned into an endurable burden on her heart, a heavy weight that she could manage. But as she woke up, a year older and without a pair of loving arms that held her as he sang an ancient birthday song, she couldn’t help but feel as if the weight had suddenly been multiplied.

With difficulty, Clarke stood from her bed and shuffled towards the wall. The tally mark was shaky and obviously out of place among the others. “Happy birthday, Clarke,” she muttered to herself, but even like that it sounded sarcastic.

Bellamy brought her breakfast and commented on her quietness, the blonde carefully tossed her food on the corner so when he came to retrieve the tray he found the plates empty. The guards came to get her to shower and when she returned the food was gone. The tears though, those kept coming.

* * *

 

“Bellamy I’m scared,” she confessed when he greeted her at dinner. He hadn’t yet slid the tray into the cell, and she could hear him stopping his movements.

“Of what?”

“Dying…” she said too quickly, before taking a deep breath. “Today’s my birthday, which means a year from now I’ll be getting out… and for all we know I’ll be floated before I get to eat any cake.” Her feeble attempt at a joke hung in the air for a while, the silence making her press herself against the door in order to hear something, anything, from him.

“Can we… uh, ignore the following two things?”

“Sure,” Clarke replied after a pause.

“First, since it’s your birthday, you’ll ignore the fears that you’ve just mentioned. Deal?”

Clarke remained quiet for a while before lying. “Okay.”

“Second, you’ll ignore the creepy fact that I _knew_ it was your birthday… it’s on your data sheet.” Clarke chuckled and watched a hesitant tray start to be slid inside her cell. “Happy birthday, princess.”

She gasped as she spotted five color pencils neatly tied in a piece of fabric that served as a ribbon, but what baffled her most were the three slim books that he had smuggled in and, of course, the best part:

“Chocolate!”

Bellamy laughed outside of her cell and Clarke closed her eyes as if to make disappear the door between them so she could thank him properly. The damned tears made it to her eyes before he could say anything else.

“ _Under the Lilacs, The Name of the Rose and Dandelion Wine,”_ he named and Clarke drew her eyes to the book titles. “Those are for you… I mean, you can _keep_ them.” He cleared her throat, and Clarke noticed the obvious shyness in his voice as he spoke next. “Flowers, for you. I know it’s not much but I didn’t want your birthday to go by without m-“

“Shhh…” she quieted him, wiping her eyes from unwanted tears. “ _Thank you_ ¸ Bellamy.”

* * *

 

He came to retrieve the dinner tray later and Clarke was still smiling, the chocolate induced endorphins still travelling through her veins.

“Good night, Bell,” she murmured when he stayed silent trying to bring out any words from him, but she didn’t. Somehow she knew he was still there, but he remained quiet causing Clarke’s smile to slowly die off.

“Bell?”

He sighed, and a small _thump_ on the door made it clear that he was now leaning against it.

“I have one final gift.”

“You don’t sound very excited…” she commented. “Either way, I don’t need anything else, Bell. You’ve already given me way more than I could have possibly dreamt of.”

“I know but… this is kind of a selfish gift, actually.” Clarke frowned, and her silence urged him to carry on. “Trust. I need to tell you a secret.”

“And who would I tell?” She deadpanned, and he laughed nervously.

“I don’t know… someone, I guess. This secret, it could buy you your freedom Clarke.”

“At what cost?” Clarke half-whispered, her heart trembling with both anxiety and curiosity.

“Why don’t you judge by yourself?”

After a second that felt awfully too long, Clarke managed to out an “okay”.

“My mother’s name, is Aurora, not Octavia.” Although Bellamy speak clearly and separated each word from the other carefully, his voice trembled. “Octavia is my sister’s name.”

The pieces fell slowly yet forcibly in their place at the revelation, finally solving the puzzle that until then Bellamy was to her. Why he had immediately empathized with her solitary confinement, since he knew someone that most probably was in the same situation. Why he had stolen that first aid kit _after_ he had just been healed. The childish handwriting that marked the mythology book as ‘Bellamy and Octavia Blake’s property’. The way Bellamy sometimes cut his phrases short when speaking of his family, the way he called his mother by her name sometimes. Well, what she thought had been his mother’s name at least.

 _It could buy you your freedom, Clarke._ She tried to eliminate the echo that his words had left on her head.

If she managed to talk to Bellamy’s boss, if she could get a word with the Council ─ if she was stubborn enough she was sure they’d have to at least listen at her ─ she could easily trade that information for her freedom. An illegitimate child was worth much more than a chancellor’s daughter imprisoned. That kind of information would prove she was on their side, that she deserved her freedom indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, yes... I admit I stole the books idea from the Age of Adaline. Ellis is just the love of my life and it seemed to me like something Bellamy most definitely would do. Hope you liked it!


	14. Grateful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know I skipped a week but I've been struggling to balance school and fanfiction, hopefully you will like this chapter!! Thank you so much for reading and for your kudos/comments! You make my days!

> _“I have a sister,” I used to whisper to myself at night, when there was nothing to be heard but the peaceful breathing from my mother, the restless movement of the baby in my bed._
> 
> _“I have a sister,” I used to murmur in the shower, where I knew the water would muffle my voice and no one would find out my most precious secret._
> 
> _“I have a sister,” I used to write in small letters, erasing the pencil right away before anyone could peek over my shoulder._
> 
> _Sometimes I wondered if no one knowing made her less real, but I kind of thing that was the idea._

 It was both relieving and terrifying. For the first time in his entire life Bellamy had spoken those dreaded and heavy words to another human being. It simultaneously felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest and a hundred pounds were dropped onto his shoulders. He knew that Clarke couldn’t do anything immediately, and every single part of him wanted to believe in her, to trust her with his biggest secret, but giving anyone the slightest chance of betraying Octavia was beyond scary.

The seconds went by slowly, and Bellamy pressed both his empty palms against the cold metal of her door. He wanted to beg her to say something, to reassure him with her voice and her promise of silence. He wanted to beg Clarke to forgive him, for giving her the chance of getting out of prison and asking her not to take it.

But she didn’t say anything for a long time.

He tried to gather enough saliva to swallow and ready himself to speak when she beat him to it.

“It’s a price I’m not willing to pay.” Her voice sounded small, and Bellamy’s heart ached when he realized she had actually considered it. But then again, how could she not? “Your secret’s safe with me, Bellamy.”

“Thank you, Clarke,” he replied within a heartbeat.

“B-but, how? I mean… how have you kept her hidden all this time?”

“It’s much easier now that she doesn’t cry every two hours because she is hungry…”

Clarke giggled, and Bellamy could almost picture her rolling her eyes.

“You should go, they’ll wonder what’s taking you so long.” He sighed, nodding as he often did, almost forgetting she could not see him.

“I don’t want to go,” he said, making it the second thing he was voicing for the first time.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

* * *

Octavia tackled him with her usual excitement, and Bellamy stumbled on his feet to catch her. He spun her around and kissed her hair before setting her gently in the floor.

“What have you been up to, kid?” He asked distractedly, but if Octavia noticed she didn’t mention it. Instead she began telling him about the books she had been reading. Bellamy’s lips curved up in a smile, he didn’t need to actually pay attention to her for his sister to make him happy. It was a natural gift.

“Hey O.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I won’t let anything happen to you, don’t you?”

Octavia laughed and rolled her eyes. “I know Bell, you tell me every day.”

Bellamy smiled wider and opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the door opening. He quickly stood up, hiding Octavia with his tense body.

“Oops, uhm-sorry.” A young man spoke from the door, it was his co-worker, Travis. “I always forget to knock, someone will throw me a shoe someday.”

Bellamy forced out a laugh. “No worries man, what’s up?” Behind him Octavia fidgeted with his shirt nervously, he was dying to tell her to stop.

“You forgot your jacket.” Travis lifted the jacket and Bellamy chuckled, motioning at him to throw it.

Travis eyed the space between them, as if wondering why Bellamy wasn’t taking the three steps between them, but threw the jacket anyway.

“Thanks man.”

“Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow Blake.”

The door closed and Bellamy ran towards it to lock it, cursing to himself the whole time for having forgotten.

Even minutes after Travis’ footsteps had walked away, Octavia continued to cling onto his shirt, inconsolable

 

* * *

 

An hour later or so, their mother returned to the quarters and Bellamy took it as his cue to get out and take a shower. It was late enough for him not to run into almost anyone on the showers, so he hummed to himself as he undressed and walked into the perpetually cold water. Only when he was sure the room was empty and that no one could hear his voice underneath the water he dared to whisper.

“I’m in love with Clarke Griffin.”

Somehow, this secret felt heavier than the previous.

He took his time in the shower, rinsing his hair for longer than necessary before an alert was heard in the shower’s control panel. _15 seconds left of shower time_ , the red letters seemed to yell at him and he angrily turned off the water.

In the Ark they even took away those kind of things from you.

 

* * *

 

“O?” He whispered in the darkness, only when he was positive that their mother was soundly asleep. Octavia groaned and he watched her pop one eye open before closing it again tiredly.

“What do you want?”

“I told Clarke,” Bellamy burst without much ceremony.

Octavia half-sat up abruptly. “You told her what?”

“About you,” he confessed gingerly.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, suddenly bored, as she went back to her laying position.

“What do you mean ‘oh’? It’s a big deal.”

“You trust her, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t have told her if I didn’t, you know that.”

“Then it’s not a big deal. Besides now I get to write her letters, maybe she’ll draw me some pictures. It kind of sucks for her, though, doesn’t it? If she ratted us out, she’d be free instantly.”

Bellamy remained quiet, sometimes his sister was too smart for his own sake.

“Also it gives me the chance to tell her that my brother’s crazy about her.”

“Your brother’s an idiot.”

Her white smile flashed in the darkness. “He is.”

 

* * *

 

The days went by pretty dully, with the obvious bright moments of coming home to his sister and listening to Clarke’s voice. She read him her favorite passages of the books he had gifted to her, and he told her about Octavia. He told her everything.

Bellamy spoke for the first time about the fact that he didn’t know who his father was, and how his mother had cried for weeks when he realized she was pregnant, but she never had the heart to get rid of the child. He told her about naming his sister after Augustus’ sister, and how scared he had been when she cried at night. He told her about the way he had stolen food from the cafeteria and later from the kitchens, about the one time he had to steal the first aid kit, but of course she already knew that. Bellamy told her about how the girls in his class thought he had a crush on a girl from a higher grade since he kept doodling his sister's name on the margins of his notebooks.

It was refreshing to know that Octavia existed somewhere outside of his quarters.

One day, his sister gave him a closed envelope and Bellamy didn’t have to ask her what to do with it. As he got ready for work the teenager warned him sternly.

“Don’t read it.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes at her and hid the letter inside his jacket before walking out of the quarters.

“How are we doing princess?” He asked as he slid the tray into her cell, he chuckled as he listened to the yawn on the other side of the door.

“Weredoingjustfine,” Clarke muttered groggily and Bellamy’s heart skipped a beat at the beautiful sound. After another quite audible yawn she spoke again. “I’d kill for some coffee, Bell.”

“Me too,” he answered. He had only tried the thing twice or so, but it was by far the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Bellamy slid Octavia’s later through the door and waited patiently for Clarke to take it. “I have a message for you.”

“Is this…?”

“My sister figured it must be super boring to have me as your only friend, she is coming to your rescue.”

As always, he treasured his laughter the whole day.

* * *

 

At night, when he walked up to her cell to retrieve her dinner tray Clarke slid the same envelope in it, but he could see that it had been opened and reused.

“Bell?”

“Yeah, princess?

“Don’t open it.”

Bellamy barked a laugh and he could almost picture her eyeing him confused.

“I can already tell you’ll be great friends.”


	15. Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took forever, but I want to thank y'all for sticking with my tardiness and mostly for your support. You are amazing!! Happy New Year!

> _My father was so good using his words. He always knew what to say, how to say it. He wrote a lot too. He had a small leather notebook where he wrote in small handwriting, I always wondered how old that thing was, and why he never seemed to run out of paper. I’ll never know. He was floated with it._
> 
> _I’ve never been good with my words. I’m better drawing, painting pictures of the way I feel. Words, they always seem to escape me. Much like everything else does._

Octavia’s letter felt heavy in Clarke’s hand, even before she opened it. A lot of things felt heavy in her cell, like the pauses in between Bellamy’s phrases, when she wasn’t sure if he was still there or not. Like the hours and the lines on the wall, counting down the days for her next birthday and possible execution. Gravity was messed up in that room.

Somehow the simple envelope managed to be heavier than all of that.

Clarke waited until Bellamy was gone so that she could read it in peace, but even so it took her a few minutes to finally open the envelope, and even more to actually read it. It felt very different to let her eyes slide through the handwritten letters, she had gotten too used to the small print of the books Bellamy sneaked into her cell. Her mind wandered to a younger Octavia, to a younger Bellamy trying to teach an impatient girl how to read and write so she wouldn’t want to go outside. Maybe Octavia too had found solace in stolen books and ancient stories, maybe that was why Bellamy had known that his sister’s friendship exactly what Clarke needed.

> _Dear Clarke,_
> 
> _I am not sure how this letter should start, or if it should start at all. Outside from my mother and brother, I’ve never had to talk to anyone else. Much less via writing, so I’m sorry if this is kind of weird._
> 
> _I guess I should start by saying thank you. I know that if you ratted us out you’d be free in a second. I wanna think that I would do the same in your place, but I’m not sure. You have at least seen what’s outside your door, and I haven’t. I am not sure if what’s out there is worth betraying someone. Which means that whatever I chose, I’d end up making the wrong choice. I make a lot of wrong choices (which if you think about it, is pretty cool, considering that I’m trapped in a room all day)._
> 
> _Anyway, Bell showed me your drawings. They’re pretty good. You are lucky to be talented at something. I guess I just wanted to tell you that I understand what you are going through. And that I’m glad that we both have my brother to get through it. But if you ever need to complain with someone about him being a smartass, I’m your girl._
> 
> _Stay strong,_
> 
> _-O_

Clarke set the letter down trying to untangle her thoughts to decide how she felt about the words she had just read. When Bellamy slid the letter through the door, Clarke had felt its importance. She knew Octavia was aware of her existence, and of the fact that Bellamy was breaking virtually every rule by befriending her. But she had never stopped to think about what Octavia thought of her. Was she angry? That a random girl was threatening her safety and her family? Was she proud of her brother? Was she scared?

Clarke knew it was probably her turn to reassure her, to tell her that the price was too high and that she wasn’t willing to lose Bellamy over her freedom. Clarke knew it was her turn to tell Octavia that her secret was safe with her. But that was not the part of the letter that worried her.

She tried to put herself in the place of the other girl, born in secret, hidden under the floorboards all her life. Flinching at every footstep, overthinking every noise. Feeling guilty every time her brother showed up tired from his job. Clarke shivered. In a way, she had it much better than Octavia had. She could still look forward to a possibility of happiness. In a year she could be floated or released, and being the daughter of the chancellor, odds were she’d walk free.

Octavia would never get that chance. She was stuck in those quarters for the rest of her life. She’d never have friends, fall in love, nothing. Clarke shivered.

But then again, didn’t Octavia have something much better? She had Bellamy. Even when Clarke couldn’t see him, she could almost picture his face brightening whenever he talked about his sister, the way he chuckled as he remembered the small things about her, how he announced proudly that his name had been the first word that left her lips. Clarke would never know that kind of love, the closest thing to a brother she’d ever had was Wells, and he had betrayed her.

Grabbing one of her blank sheets she started a letter, but after a couple of minutes a “Dear Octavia” was everything she had managed to write down. There is something off-putting about your own handwriting staring at you from a blank page. Lazily, Clarke started sketching on the corner of the page, trying to will the words out of her fingers, but as usual only images appeared in her head. Slowly, the image of the Ark’s library appeared in the page, and Clarke reached across the room to grab her pencils, filling it with color.

When she was done, only half of the page was blank, and it looked much less threatening.

> _Dear Octavia,_
> 
> _I’ve never been good with words, and you said you liked my drawings. So here’s one for you. In my opinion, this is the only place in the Ark that is worth visiting, and I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to. Is the only place outside of the labs and farms that has plants, flowerpots, you see? And lots of books, which I assume you like too._
> 
> _But it is not enough to betray you, or your brother. The Ark is a cruel place, you and I know it better than anyone else. It’s rare to find someone as kind as your brother. Just so you know, I am not taking that for granted. Your secret is safe with me._
> 
> _Stay strong, whenever you need a girl talk. I’m here._
> 
> _Clarke._
> 
> _P.S. Your brother IS a smartass, but I like that. Don’t tell him I told you that._

After a long moment of deliberation, Clarke covered the last sentence with more drawings, hiding her message before placing it on the same envelope where Octavia had delivered her letter.

* * *

 

Letters became a common thing, once a week at least. Octavia asked Clarke about her life in the Ark before she was imprisoned, claiming that Bellamy never liked to talk much about the outside, afraid that Octavia might be tempted to go out exploring. Clarke decided to go against what he would have wanted and told her everything. About the football games Mr. Jaha used to watch, the classrooms, the never ending hallways and corridors, and the windows through which Clarke could see millions and millions of stars. She told her about the Ground, and how it was blue, inviting and fascinating, but mostly how it was completely out of her reach.  Octavia told her about her mother, about Bellamy and how he had always protected her fearlessly.

It didn’t help much to Clarke’s condition.

Before Octavia and her letters, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about the what if’s. There was a distinct possibility that in less than a year she would get floated, and then all the possibilities of a future would end as soon as the little oxygen in her lungs. She had clung to that possibility, because even when it was frightening, she knew that it would do her no good to have expectations of freedom just to be floated.

But now she had. She wanted to meet Octavia, to teach her how to draw, give her the gift of a real friend, help out with her needs. She wanted to see her mother again, nurse her to health, be there for her. Clarke wanted to ask Wells why he had betrayed her. She wanted to see Bellamy, _be_ with Bellamy, whatever that meant.

“I can hear you thinking from across this door, princess.” Bellamy’s voice caught her off guard, and Clarke jumped. The blush in her cheeks betrayed her, even when there was no one there to see it.

“There’s not much else I can do inside her, now can I?” She returned, walking towards the door to receive her tray of food. In it a couple of pencils rested along the plates.

“Fair point, what are you thinking of Princess?”

In a moment of boldness, Clarke pressed against the cold metal of the door.

“Bellamy I want to try something.”


	16. Heavenly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, right? Sorry it's a bit short (and super cheesy), I promise things will get more exciting from now on! Thank you so much for reading.

> _ “Why don’t you tell her? It’s not like you have much competition, you know? You’re the only one she talks to!” Octavia’s teasing couldn’t make me feel better, not this once. In the darkness it is easy to pretend I fell asleep on her so that I don’t have to answer her question.  _
> 
> _ Because how am I supposed to say that I am not afraid about her not loving me back?  _
> 
> _ It frightens me, of course it does, to think that my feelings are unrequited. But it scares me even more that they aren't. Because what if she does love me and then she is floated? What if I give her hope, and then they take it away? _

Clarke’s letters seemed to be just what the doctor ordered. Octavia kept them underneath the floorboard, where she knew their mother would not look for them. Her eyes sparkled whenever he placed an envelope in her hands, Bellamy watched his sister become a completely different person when she was composing a new letter for her friend, the letters got longer and longer each week. And he couldn’t help but wonder what the two girls talked about, but he never asked. 

The older brother had figured that Octavia needed at least _one_ secret in her life, something that was solely her own. She was always inside the quarters reading or sewing or just waiting for him or their mother to come back, and when they did she was supposed to retell everything she did, every noise she made, in case any of them were asked about it later. She never got to do something different, to go on an adventure, she never got to keep anything for herself. But Clarke’s letters were just  _hers_ , and Bellamy decided he ought to keep his nose out of it, even if curiosity killed him. Especially when Octavia looked up from the letter, towards him and then laughed. 

“Happy birthday, O,” He said when she opened her eyes, she beamed and sat up. Their mom was gone already, in hopes to get ahead on her work and be back home early. “Clarke sends this,” he continued placing the envelope on his sister’s hands and reaching behind his back. “And I brought this,” he said materialising a slice of chocolate cake from behind him. She squealed in delight. 

“Is it real?” 

“Why don’t you try it and find out?”

* * *

 

More than ever he was painfully aware of the fact that he was the only bridge to reality both the girls had. Outside their four walls they didn’t have anything but him. He wasn’t about to say it, but it was a huge responsibility, a weight on his shoulders that most of the times was too heavy. 

He scanned his ID and reported for duty, palming the pocket where he kept his gift for Clarke at least a dozen times before it was even time to go get her food. She was unusually quiet when he slid her breakfast through the door, so he decided to hold on to the pencils for a while more, selfishly needing her to be thankful for his gesture, and knowing she was too distracted by something to appreciate it. 

During lunch they simply exchanged a few comments about Octavia and her birthday, so he had pushed the pencils back in his pocket and went in search for some color ones before returning to deliver her dinner. Something was up, and he hated the fact that he could do nothing but smuggle in things to comfort her. In case that his decision and the aquamarine pencil had played even the tiniest role in her bold actions, then he considered it the best decision he had ever taken.

It was as if suddenly the Ark had just crashed against something. It was pathetic really, to think that such a simple gesture could take his breath away so unceremoniously, but it did. Because Bellamy had imagined a similar moment a lot of times, but it was always him who reached out in his imagination. Watching her reaching out for him was a thousand times better than he could have ever dreamt of. 

Her question had echoed in his head for a long time before he urged her to try whatever she wanted to. Her pale — much smaller than his, much softer too— hand appeared through the opening in the door. He had dreamed of holding her hand for more time than it was acceptable for a non-school boy. But he hadn’t indulged those fantasies, because he knew his hand was too big to fit through the opening. 

But Clarke’s did, and he rushed to grab it in his. 

On the other side of the door she sighed in relief, Bellamy’s heart ached as he realised she hadn’t expected for him to hold her. What did she think he'd do? Walk away? he swallowed his insecurities and prepared to say something, but the words eluded him.

“Hi there,” he said stupidly as he linked their fingers together. She laughed, and her hand trembled, he placed his free hand on top of their linked ones, stopping the tremble. 

“Hi there,” the princess echoed. 

* * *

Some things you just never get used to. Those things are mostly bad, like the way he felt whenever he saw a man eyeing his mother (or worst, _touching_ her) the completely blank expression on her face whenever one of those pigs approached her, it was the price she had to pay to keep Octavia safe. He could never get used to the burning feeling his sister’s “I hate you”s provoked when she insisted on going out for a small walk, a small harmless walk in the middle of the night and he refused. Bellamy would never get used to the fear that consumed him whenever the footsteps in the hallway seemed to stop right outside their door.

But there were some other feelings that were good, too good to be true. Like Octavia snuggling up to him while she was asleep, even when she claimed she was too grown up now. Like making Aurora laugh, watching the pain in her eyes and the weight on her shoulders disappear for a while. Like holding Clarke’s hand. 

None of them had actually said anything about it, about what it meant or how it made them feel. But he was not about to ask, especially since he knew there was no way Clarke felt half as strongly about it as he did. And in the remote case that she did, it would only be because it was the only human contact she had inside her cell. 

He would also never get over the pain of letting go of her hand when he had to walk away, as if it hadn’t already been difficult enough for him to turn his back to her door. 

It was strangely comforting, even to Bellamy when he could go back to his dorm and hold his sister in his arms, give his mother a hug, or probably kiss any girl he pleased. Physical contact was not impossible for him, but holding Clarke's hand felt like nothing he had experienced before. Maybe it was because  Clarke was his best friend, the only person that knew about his sister and the one person Bellamy could trust, holding her hand simply reassured him that she was real. That she was a real person he could count on. And somehow giving her books and pencils didn’t seem good enough to him.

Maybe it was because he was in love with her. 

“Will you promise me something, Bell?” She said a few days later, he was leaning against the door, concealing their linked hands to anyone that might walk by. 

“Depends on what it is,” he replied cautiously. 

Clarke let out a short laugh, as if she had been expecting that answer. Was he that obvious?

“I know that I shouldn’t even be _thinking_ about this. But if on my birthday I don’t get floated…”

_‘When’, say ‘when’. Not 'if'. Please not ‘if’_. Despite himself, Bellamy kept quiet. “If I get out of here. We’ll still be friends right?”

Bellamy laughed, he even had to let go of her hand with one of his to cover his mouth. For a moment he had almost forgotten that he had absolutely no reason to be laughing on duty, and that it was exactly the kind of thing that would get them in trouble. Clarke’s hand tensed and he returned his to it, afraid that he had hurt her feelings. 

“Sorry, I just… I can’t believe you actually felt like you had to ask that question. If anything it should be _me_ asking it. Why would the Ark’s princess want to hang out with me?”

Her fingers relaxed, and she toyed with his for a moment. As the silence stretched on he found himself regretting that question, what if she realised he really had nothing to offer?

“Must be your nerd jokes.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy blurted out in a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “That must be it.”


	17. Irrepressible

> _I was barely getting used to the way Jill’s lips felt against mine when she told me she loved me. I remember rushing to say I loved her back, as if I was frightened that I might never get to say something like that again. In the Ark, you don’t have many chances to fall in love._
> 
> _Or so I thought._

She felt the words on her throat since the moment she woke up. Clarke knew there was no use on saying them, that even when they exited her mouth they would get caught in the metallic door and remain trapped in the prison cell. Just like her. 

Still, there is not much to do inside the room to successfully take her mind off it. Drawing, reading and waiting only managed to make her thoughts return to the unspeakable words. When Bellamy came with her breakfast tray she ran to snatch the glass of water, drinking it quickly in a hopeless attempt to swallow her thoughts. Fortunately, Bellamy came in a talkative mood, and his cheerful chatting masked the sounds of Clarke’s swallowing and groaning when she discovered the words where still there. 

“… She is so excited, I really don’t think she is buying the whole ‘we forgot about your birthday’ act. And my mom told me she managed to get a chocolate cake for tonight, so it’s going to be great.”

“Be sure to wish O a happy birthday for me, alright?” Clarke chewed on her words carefully, but she was relieved to hear her normal voice speak them. “And I’ll draw something for her. I’ll give it to you later today.”

“I’m sure she will love it,” Bellamy said kindly, and he chuckled. Clarke knew there was more, that he was fighting with his words too. Her heart leaped in her chest when she proved to be right and Bellamy cleared his throat. 

“Hey… Clarke?

“Yeah?” 

“I kind of want to ask you a favor.”

“Oh man, I’ll have to check my schedule…” Clarke teased, her head clearing for a moment, suddenly being entirely focused on what Bellamy needed and how could she help him. 

He chuckled again, but this time it was more sincere, and she could hear the tension leaving him as he laughed. Clarke placed the tray on the floor and cleaned her hand against her shirt before reaching out for his hand. The door moved as he leaned against it, most probably to conceal their hands, he then reached for hers, linking their fingers together. 

“What favor do you need, Bell?” 

“Did you ever go to the masquerade ball, when you were… uhm, out?”

Clarke’s hand tensed for a second, but he ran his thumb across its back, successfully making her breath again. The dull pain in her chest appeared again, the pain that she felt whenever she was struck with a vivid memory of her time before the Sky Box. She remembered being fourteen, the age Octavia was now, and going to her first masquerade. 

She had worked on her own mask and Well’s for days, and she was practically jumping with excitement when he finally came by her quarters so that they could make their way to the ball together. 

She had looked forward to that party ever since she found out about it, it was the only day of the year the teenagers in the Ark were allowed to be teenagers, where she could dance and listen to loud music. Where no one could come over and scold them for using too much light, or wasting snacks. 

Clarke won the contest for the best mask two years in a row, and she also gave her first kiss on the masquerade when she was fifteen. Memories of running through the corridors of the Ark, holding hands and laughing, haunted her and she had to literally shake her head to manage to reply to Bellamy’s question. 

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, that’s tomorrow. It is always a day after O’s birthday, and I’ve never told her about it because I think it would make her sad. But you see, she is outgrowing her clothes, and mom got enough fabric to make her a new dress for her birthday. So I was wondering if you could maybe design a cool mask for her? So that I can give it to Octavia with her dress, and maybe she can put it on and play, or pretend to be someone else, at least for a while, so that being trapped isn’t so overwhelming.”

Clarke sighed. 

“Being trapped _can_ be overwhelming,” she mused out loud, squeezing his hand lightly before letting it go, and returning it to the cold cell. “I’ll need some cardboard for the mask.”

* * *

Bellamy came back hours later to bring her lunch, some pieces of fabric he thought his mother wouldn’t miss and cardboard from an old box. Clarke sent him away without engaging in much conversation, both because he had already risked too much by bringing her material and because the words were back on her throat, menacing to go out.

The drawing for Octavia was ready and rested over her pillow, waiting to be delivered. In it a beautiful girl read in a green meadow, Clarke had spent a long time drawing her hair, braiding it with flowers and ribbons. 

Designing the mask proved to be more work than she had expected. Clarke toyed with concealing half of Octavia’s face against all of it. But in the end she managed to find a design that she liked. 

The mask was purple, and it looked like a pair of butterfly wings that covered enough of Clarke’s face but left her eyes and mouth free. She remembered talking about animals with Octavia, and how she found butterflies fascinating because they could take months of being trapped and turn them into a beautiful pair of wings, so she decided to add that to her design. 

Silently praying that her facial measurements were at least sort of like Octavia’s, Clarke slid the mask across the slit on the door and Bellamy quickly looked at it before pulling it under his jacket, along with Clarke’s drawing and letter for O. 

“Thank you, princess. It’s perfect.”

“Let me know what she thinks.”

“I know she’ll love it.”

Clarke knew that he was supposed to be in a hurry, that he should rush back to his quarters to be with his sister and reveal his presents, laughing when she scolded him for pretending that he had forgotten about her birthday. But Clarke didn’t feel him move. 

“You still there?” She whispered. 

“Yeah,” he returned immediately, but his answer sounded unsure. 

“You are going to be late to the party… your mom will be pissed.”

“I know, I know… I just— I wish you could come.” 

Clarke’s eyes widened at his words, the dull pain appearing again when she thought about a time when opening doors was much easier, where she could have simply told her father she was going to be right back and she could have held Bellamy’s hand as he lead her to his quarters to celebrate Octavia’s birthday. 

Somehow, she could hear the same dull pain in his voice too, and Clarke thought about reaching out to hold his hand, but her fingers trembled so much she decided to keep them in. 

“Oh goodness…” she let out shakily, pulling herself together enough to joke again. “I wish you’d told me sooner, I have nothing to wear.” 

Bellamy let out a barking laugh, the kind she only heard once in a while, as he was an expert in concealing forbidden sounds. He muffled his laughter with something, probably his hand and shifted against the door. Then the silence wrapped around them both for a few minutes. 

Clarke’s heart beat so loud she could hear it on her temples, and suddenly the words she had been holding back proved to be too much to be held in. She pressed her shaking hands against the cold metal of the door, but she couldn’t feel anything. 

“B-bellamy?” She tried, her voice weak. But she didn’t wait for him to reply knowing that she would only have the courage to say it once and the opportunity was not going to repeat itself. 

“Bellamy I’m in love with you.”


	18. Illicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 months later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry it took so long, but to thank you for being such amazing people you get two chapters in one night! Let me know what you think (:

> _ They didn’t let me say goodbye.  _
> 
> _ Everything happened too fast. One second I was watching the colorful lights dance over my sister’s skin, and the next she was being pulled away from me. The words by the Council came fast, too fast, and it took me a moment to understand them. Before I managed to figure out what the officers said my sister was pushed into solitary confinement and my security guard’s jacket was being taken away from me. One second I was kicking and screaming to stop them, and the next my mother was speaking the words that would haunt me forever before she got floated: _
> 
> _ “Your sister, your responsibility.” _

When he woke up, Bellamy’s mouth tasted like carton. Expertly, he peeled off the body of the woman next to him without waking her up. He fished his clothes from the pile of discarded garments in the floor and he was on his way out before he even blinked the sleep off his eyes. Bellamy went straight to the showers, tried to wash off his hungover, and then he put on the same dirty clothes before heading to his quarters. 

No matter how many times he opened that door he still expected seeing the scene that had welcomed him home for fourteen years: two twin beds, a table overflowing with clothes waiting to be mended, the loose floor tables and his little sister, excited to hear about his day.  But once more he was disappointed to see the two bunk beds, the scruffy faces of his new roommates that slowly got up to get ready for yet another miserable day of their lives. 

“Morning,” they grumbled to each other as Bellamy walked over to his belongings, changing his shirt and grabbing the janitor’s jacket on his way out. 

After breakfast, Bellamy scanned his ID at the door, and the schedule on the screen made him groan. He was given the cafeteria shift again, which meant he would spend the next few hours of his life picking up dirty trays and washing dishes for strangers. He hated the cafeteria shift, he hated anything related to trays really. They made him think of Clarke. 

And thinking of Clarke was something he avoided at all costs. It still hurt. 

Somewhere  —  underneath all of the clothes, books and junk that filled the box of belongings he had brought to his new quarters  —  the old book of Mythology contained all of the drawings Clarke had done for him. All the pencils he had collected and that he never managed to give to her. It didn’t help that, despite the fact that time seemed to move unbearably slowly, the days did continue to go on, and Clarke’s birthday was coming up. 

She would turn eighteen soon, and she would be set free. Why wouldn’t she, after all she had done for the Ark?

So he would be forced to run into her once in a while, watch her play chess with Chancellor Jaha's son while she laughed off in his face. He would have to pick up her trays and she would move on with her life without giving a second thought to the way she had ruined his. 

Bellamy felt himself growing angry again, and he slammed a tray a bit too hard against another, the security guards shot looks at him and he had to loosen his grip, watching the blood return to his knuckles. 

That was exactly why he tried to never think about Clarke Griffin, princess traitor of the Ark. 

* * *

Something had been cooking up in the higher commands, they all knew it. Section B was brewing with gossip, as they all had heard different explanations to the fact that one of the dropships was presumably getting ready for launch. Bellamy downed another glass of moonshine, grimacing at the sour taste, he really couldn't care less about conspiracy theories. On the other side of the bar, ignoring the men trading dropship gossip around her, a blonde woman smiled at her.

It would have been easy, way too easy, to get her to take him to her quarters, to lose himself in her for a few hours just so that he didn’t have to go back to a quarter filled with people he didn’t know. A quarter where his family wasn’t waiting for him. 

But the blonde hair was almost painful to look at, so instead he slid a coin across the bar to pay for his drink and he walked out. 

The one thing he hated about going to the makeshift bar was the walk back to his quarters, Bellamy had to walk past one of the biggest windows in the Ark. When he was younger he loved going there and just looking at the stars, straining his eyes to find the constellations he had spent so much time reading about. He would recall the stories about them, and make up new ones to tell his sister. He had told Octavia that the day of the masquerade. They had walked past the window as they made their way to the party. 

> “Mom will be furious!” She had said, but Bellamy was too happy to think logically. It was as if, for once in his life, everything had simply added up together. They had Clarke’s mask, and out of the blue one of the guards that was going to look over the ball had gotten ill, so Bellamy would have to cover him. 
> 
> “It will be for just an hour! We’ll come back before she even notices we are gone.”

It was impossible for him to walk past the window without seeing Octavia’s reflection on it. How she had reached out as if to grab one of the stars, how she had widened her eyes at seeing the Earth for the very first time. 

So Bellamy tried to walk quickly, he tried not to look, he tried to be too drunk to remember. But none of it ever worked. And it never failed to remind him how foolish of him it had been to break the rules so recklessly. 

When he walked into his quarters none of his roommates were there yet, so he could slam his fist against the door for a few times and wipe away his hot tears before anyone noticed. 

* * *

“Hey Blake.”

Bellamy recognised the smug voice without looking up. He had heard it way too many times, followed by his mother sneaking out of the quarters as Bellamy tried not to think about what was about to happen. His hands tensed around the mop he was holding, and he felt the sudden need to slam it against Commander Shumway’s skull. 

Instead she continued to mop in silence, holding back his murderous thoughts.

“Long time no see, huh?”

Bellamy did look up them, he saw the relaxed posture the guard was in. They were completely alone in the hallway, and Shumway seemed to be determined to pester him for a while, he was almost  _asking_ for it.

Seeing his face immediately brought Bellamy back to the last time he had seen him, how he had sighed as he took away Bellamy’s badge. 

> “I really thought you’d get away with it, you know? As long as you had kept your mouth shut and your mom her legs spread wide open… you could have made it. But you just couldn’t keep your part of the deal, could you _Bell?”_
> 
> Bellamy remembered his anger, how he had to swallow it to beg for mercy. But the Council was having none of it. And Shumway seemed to be particularly happy to deliver the bad news to the soon-to-be orphan. 
> 
> “I guess you can thank your little girlfriend for this. Never trust a bitch, Blake. I guess your father never stuck around to teach you that.”
> 
> In the midst of the heartbreak and desperation, Bellamy was able to ask him what he meant. Until that moment, he had thought the whole incident had been a mixture of his stupidity and bad luck. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time.  But Shumway gave him someone else to blame. 
> 
> “Clarke Griffin, she’s the one that gave you away.”

“What do you want?” He spat. His knuckles were white against the mop, and he was trying hard to hold back his anger. 

“I want to help you, for old times’ sake,” Shumway replied smugly, straightening up and walking towards Bellamy. “I reckon you’ve heard about the dropship, right?”

Bellamy gave him a dry nod, ready to dismiss his help already. 

“Well… long story short, the Ark is running out of oxygen. So the Council is going crazy in trying to find a solution to make the human race survive and whatnot. And you know where there’s a lot of oxygen? The Ground.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t have time for this. Get lost, will you?” He grumbled. 

Shumway raised his hands in a defensive manner. 

“Hold up big boy, I’m not done yet. As you know the Ground has been soaking on radiation for quite some time, but there’s a chance that the air is breathable and that human race can thrive on it again. So they are sending your sister to find out.”

“They are doing what?!” Bellamy’s roar echoed through the hallway and Shumway stepped forward, his eyes flaming. 

“Shut up, alright? For fuck’s sake, we don’t have much time. They are sending all the prisoners to the Ground, all hundred of them. The dropship is being launched tonight.”

Bellamy was breathing heavily, his brain trying to catch up with the words he was listening to, much like the time he had seen the guard ask Octavia for the ID she didn’t have. 

“And I figured you’d like to be on it.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Shumway smirked, pulling open his coat enough to reveal a small gun, the kind Bellamy used to carry when he was a guard. 

“Do me a favor, and I will get you into that dropship so that you can reunite with sister dear.”

“What do you want?” Bellamy felt his hands shake, because he knew the man in front of him. He had been the one to bruise his mother’s neck and threaten with taking Octavia away, all of his instincts told him not to trust that man. But he was also his only hope, in case the whole dropship thing proved to be true. 

“Kill Jaha.”

Bellamy swallowed. But he knew that the night was coming soon and he had only one chance to see his sister again. 

“Deal.”


	19. Haunted

> _**** “Back then, on the Ground, some people had their ashes pressurized so that they would turn into diamonds, can you imagine that? Imagine your good ol’ dad as a pink diamond.” Clarke had laughed so hard a small snort came out, she knew she should act more solemn in a graveyard, but it was hard to when her father made those kinds of jokes. And somehow the Forest at the Ark didn't seem as scary as the graveyards in old movies, there was something calm about being around trees. _
> 
> _ “But this is much better, isn’t it kid?” Jake Griffin’s voice was gentle and he wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “I mean, I get why some people wouldn’t want to stay here at the Ark… but I sure think it is nice to be given a second chance of helping out. Even if you are just a tree giving away oxygen for free.”  _

 

Clarke looked up for the first time in weeks. She took in the open door, the artificial light pouring inside her cell and the man crossing the threshold tentatively. The walls were covered with old paintings, and she tried not to let her eyes stay on them for long, she had learned to pretend they weren’t there. 

When Bellamy stopped showing up she had torn apart some of the drawings she had made for him, and she stashed away all of the others under her bed. She hid the books, the color pencils and the art supplies he had smuggled in. She stopped counting the days, the makeshift calendar stopped abruptly as she stopped caring about the way time passed. 

Three times a day a tray was slid into her cell, filled with food but without any colorful presents. Every day in the morning a guard showed up and escorted her to shower, Clarke didn’t look for a certain freckled face anymore, in fact she barely ever looked up from her toes. That morning shower was all the human interaction she had on the six months after Bellamy’s leaving. 

Clarke managed to survive the boring days by focusing on her next task mechanically: food, shower, don’t think of Bellamy. Food, don’t think of Bellamy. Food, don’t think of Bellamy, sleep. Repeat. 

Controlling her thoughts during the day became easier and easier, she focused her eyes on a certain part of the wall that didn’t show any colorful handmade drawings and allowed her mind to go blank until the next tray showed up or it was time to shower. It was much harder to control her thoughts before going to sleep. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, tired of not being tired, but more often than not she found herself thinking of him, the way he laughed and the way he had left her. In her sleep she often heard the echoes of Bellamy’s footsteps as he walked away after she confessed her feelings. And then she could hear the loud silence of his absence. 

Thelonious Jaha cleared his throat, and Clarke made an effort to focus her eyes on him again. 

“Clarke,” he spoke, making the girl jump at the loud noise. Her eyes fell on the Chancellor pin that she was so used to seeing on her mother’s chest and she cleared her throat. No words came out. 

“I need you to come with me,” he continued, and panic quickly made its way to her stomach. 

“But it’s not my birthday yet,” she blurted out, even when she wasn’t exactly sure if what she was saying was true or not. “You can’t float me… I’m not eighteen yet.”

Pain crossed Jaha’s features and he shook his head, walking further inside her prison cell and looking around, taking in the drawings. He seemed to be inclined to ask about them, but he thought better of it, letting his tired eyes fall on her again.

“You are not being floated, Clarke,” his voice was grave and she knew that he was trying to be reassuring, but somehow she felt more uneasy. Clarke’s heart pounded rapidly on her chest and she looked around for someone to help her, even when she didn’t know what exactly was menacing her. 

“I–– I don’t understand why you are here.” Still unaccustomed to the sound of her own voice, Clarke waited as the echo died in the metallic walls. It took the dark skinned man a long time after that to find the strength to talk again.

“It’s your mom. She… she passed away this morning, in her sleep. The doctors aren’t still quite sure why. We all thought she was getting better, she was supposed to return to her Chancellor post later this week…”  Jaha continued to talk on the background, but Clarke could only think of his first two sentences. Her fingers clasped around the old bed sheets and she suddenly felt like she was going to puke. But she didn’t. She didn't do anything. 

“I’m sorry Clarke,” the words sounded tired but sincere. They didn’t mean anything to her. 

No matter how sorry he was she was hardly given the opportunity to kiss her father goodbye, and now her mother was gone too. As her mother was taking her last breath she had been laying in her prison cell, trying her damnest hard not to think about anything. 

Jaha’s much bigger hand wrapped around hers and Clarke started breathing for the first time in minutes, she hadn’t even noticed she had stopped. 

“Should I ask Wells to come?”

Clarke jerked away from him, suddenly too aware of how much he looked like his son. The same shape of the lips, the same kind eyes she used to trust wholeheartedly. But then Wells had broken their most sacred oath, and Thelonious Jaha had floated her father. 

“Can I see her?” She hissed, and she pretended not to be surprised when he nodded and motioned towards the door. 

Clarke walked out of her cell, she had never felt more trapped. 

* * *

Abby Griffin looked as if she was sleeping. Clarke suddenly felt five years old, grabbing her ratty shoes on one hand as she tiptoed out of their quarters, keeping an eye on her sleeping mother so that she could go meet Wells. She felt the urge to slam the door repeatedly until her mother woke up and scolded her for being so loud. But she knew she was never going to say anything anymore.

Clarke held her cold and limp hand for some moments before setting a kiss on the skin that didn’t feel like her mom’s anymore. 

“May we meet again,” she whispered before nodding at the guards, who silently wheeled her mother away to be turned into ashes. 

Clarke found herself in her old quarters, the childish drawings she had made all those years ago covered the walls along with some pictures of her and her parents. Her old bed still smelled like her, but her father’s pillow was gone. It felt just as lonely and claustrophobic as her prison cell. 

She sat on her old bed, waiting for Jaha or some guards to handcuff her and walk her back to the Sky Box, but no one came knocking on the door. Hours later, when she was hungry she sneaked a look into the hallway but no one was there. 

Was she _free?_ Had her mother’s death bought her forgiveness? 

Only then, hours later, when her lips didn’t remember how her mother’s forehead had felt like, did Clarke Griffin start crying. It didn’t make her feel better.

* * *

 

The next morning when she woke up, there was a tray filled with food in her quarter’s table. The food was nothing like the one she was given at the Sky Box. The portions were bigger and the dishes much more tasty, but they still tasted like carton and tears to her. Minutes after she finished eating, she changed her clothes and walked towards the bed, decided to figure out once and for all whether she was free or not. Being tackled into the floor by a group of guards seemed preferable to sitting by herself in a room that didn't feel like hers anymore. 

She bumped into the tall body of Thelonious Jaha, his hand already up, ready to knock on her door. 

“Glad to see you are awake, Clarke.” 

Swallowing, she turned around and walked back into her quarters, sitting on her bed once again. She pulled her knees against her chest and waited for him to say something.

The Chancellor took a deep breath before walking inside he room, his hands shoved into his jeans and exhaustion plastered all over his face. Clarke wondered about what she looked like for the first time in months. 

“I know you are going through a lot right now, kid.” Clarke’s stomach turned as her father’s nickname for her left his killer’s mouth, Jaha must have noticed because he didn’t use it again. “But there’s something important we need to talk about.” The silence spread across the room as he waited for his words to sink in, Clarke's mind jumped towards the only possible explanation. 

“Am I being floated?” Even though her words came out as a question, Clarke realized that for the first time she didn’t actually care about the answer. 

“No, no. You are not a prisoner anymore, and even if you were you must know you were never going to be floated, Clarke. All this time, we always planned for you to come out on your eighteenth birthday, and hopefully by then we would have fixed the glitch on Life Support. This whole situation isn’t exactly what we had planned.”

Jaha looked at her expectantly, there was a question in his eyes and he seemed to be waiting for Clarke to hand him the answer. She simply sat there, eyes burning from crying herself to sleep and a tired brain from overthinking all the things she should have told her mother the last time they saw each other. He gave up after a while, closing his eyes and taking his hand to the bridge of his nose. Whatever answers he was searching for, he hand't found them in Clarke's eyes.

“We have not fixed the glitch on Life Support, Clarke. And after some kid’s unauthorized Space Walk I am afraid that the Ark has much less time than we originally planned for. Drastic measures must be taken, and I am afraid that I must now present you with a choice. The Ark needs your help.”

_A choice?_ Anger pumped through her veins as her eyes burned into the Chancellor’s. 

“How about the choice I made _two years ago_?” She spat, standing from her bed and continued to look into the much taller man’s eyes. Regardless of the difference of heights, Clarke suddenly felt like punching him in the face. “How about that time my father tried to warn you and all of the Ark about this ‘glitch’ and you _floated_ him? How dare you ask me for help when I have rotted in a cell for two years so that you can keep up your Happy Ark facade?” 

The accusations rolled easily off her tongue, her vision becoming blurry with tears of anger, but Jaha seemed to be unfazed by her words. 

“I realize that I might not be your favorite person right now, Clarke. But everything I’ve done I’ve done it for the Ark.”

Clarke balled her hands into fists, her chest going up and down rapidly. Her silence invited Jaha to say whatever it was he wanted to say and just be done with it. 

“We are sending the prisoners to the Ground, all of them. We have reasons to believe that the air might be breathable and the Earth survivable, your mother designed bracelets that will transmit the vital signs from the prisoners in order for us to know if it is safe to come down. This is our one chance to go back home, Clarke. Our one chance to survive as a species.”

The blonde tightened her hands, trying to ignore the pain on her chest when the words ‘your mother’ were spoken. It still felt like Jaha had no right to talk to her, much less talk about her parents. 

“I still don’t get what _any_ of this has to do with me. You said it yourself that I am not a prisoner anymore.”

“Officially, you shouldn’t be released until your birthday in a few weeks. But we are willing to overlook that in light of the… _current events.”_ Clarke scoffed. “We are offering you, and only you, the opportunity to choose how to be part of the The 100 program. You may choose staying here at the Ark, taking over your mother’s job at the hospital wing and helping us decipher the signals the bracelets will be sending. Or you can go to the Ground.”

In that moment, Clarke thought Jaha had been pretty obvious from the beginning, and she almost felt embarrassed to realise she had taken so long to catch up with his offer. Oddly enough, that was the moment Bellamy Blake chose to pop into her mind. 

She thought about the life she’d lead on the Ark, without a mother or a father, without Wells. She thought of silent cooperation she’d have with Jackson as they treated patient after patient of oxygen deprivation. She thought about running into Bellamy on the hallways, crossing paths with him on her way to the library. Somehow, dying of radiation exposure while trying to help the human race survive didn’t sound half as bad. 

As long as she didn’t have to see Bellamy Blake again. 

“When do we leave?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, I am so very sorry about the delay! I am on a break now so hopefully I will be posting at least once a week. I promise the plot will speed up now that they are on the Ground. Hope you enjoy!


	20. Groundbreaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, posting after a week(ish)! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

> _ The gun felt heavy on my hand. Heavier than anything I had ever carried before. It was heavier than Octavia when she was first placed into my arms the day she was born, heavier than the stolen first aid kit on my jacket when Octavia had gotten ill, heavier than the food tray on Clarke’s birthday when I hadn’t been brave enough to tell her I loved her.  _
> 
> _ Oddly enough, the gun felt heavier once I shot.  _

Bellamy didn’t dare moving, not even after the dropship was launched. He could hear Abby Griffin’s voice on the speakers and it sent a shiverdown his spine. She was explaining to the teenage prisoners that they were now on their way to the Ground, that their crimes had made them expendable so they were sending them down to find out if the Earth was survivable or die trying. _It must be a recording_ , he thought, his mind flying to the memory of Chancellor Jaha's voice on the speakers as he announced the death of the former Chancellor. 

The death of Clarke’s mother. 

It was hard not to think about how no one had bothered to spare a thought for his own mother’s death, no one stopped to give their condolences after they floated her, but Abby Griffin had a memorial and everything. He had stopped by shortly, on his way to meet Shumway to get the gun. And he had seen _her_. 

Clarke’s hair fell softly in effortless blonde curls, it was clean and freshly brushed. She did not look like that the one time he had seen her in the hallway, when her hair had been messy and her eyes puffy. And now she looked like a real princess, the kind of princesses he hated, the ones who lived in Phoenix and enjoyed privileges denied to all the others.Blood had boiled on his veins again even when he had only gotten a glimpse of her face, confirming what he already knew: Clarke Griffin got to attend her mother’s funeral, she got to shower and leave the Sky Box. 

He wasn’t allowed to visit Octavia. 

He thought about how Clarke had described her cell, the claustrophobic four walls that seemed to close around her on her worst days, the small window that never showed anything, the long hours without anything to do stretching and stretching. Octavia had been there for six months, without anyone to bring her books and pencils, completely alone and it was all Clarke’s fault. 

Every single ounce of doubt he had experienced about Shumway’s offer disappeared as he saw her, once the rush of panic had extinguished and they had worked out the plan, Clarke had crawled into his thoughts. If he went down to the Ground with them, in the remote case that air was breathable and they didn’t all die during landing, _she_ would be there. Clarke Griffin, the woman he had loved and had used him for her own convenience. And they would be stuck together for the rest of their lives. But once he saw her at her mother’s funeral, he knew that she would be spared from the The 100 project. 

And he would be spared of being with her. 

So Bellamy went ahead and met Shumway in a deserted hallway, he hid the gun in his jacket and waited for his time to act. The time came and he shot after only a few seconds of hesitancy. Shumway held to his word and managed to sneak Bellamy into the dropship just minutes before it launched. Bellamy was now overwhelmed by how quickly his life had changed forever. Six months ago he had a family, a sister and a mother whom he loved, and in a second they were both taken away. And now it had only taken a gunshot, fractions of a second, to turn his life around again. If the Ground was survivable he'd be able to be with Octavia forever, no floorboards to hid her under, no secret searches to fear. 

“The drop site has been chosen carefully,” Abby Griffin’s voice continued to be heard on the speakers. “Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years, you will find it by––”

Bellamy never thought he would ever desperately want to continue listening to Abby Griffin, but at the same time her voice stopped the lights on the dropship flashed once before turning off completely. The loud murmur of a hundred teenagers muted and for a second Bellamy felt entirely hopeless for the first time in his life. Then the yelling started, and he could hear Octavia’s cries but he couldn’t move.

And then they crash landed. 

It took everyone a few moments to acknowledge the fact they weren’t dead. Bellamy caught sight of a few kids looking around, waiting for someone to tell them it was okay to unbuckle their seat belts. They were aimlessly looking for a leader, they couldn’t be older than Octavia. Bellamy felt a tug on his chest, the kind he used to feel when Octavia reached up her small arms for him to hold her. 

He walked past the kids, now looking for Octavia, but he couldn’t find her in the sea of faces. The older kids stood up then, and everyone followed their example, a few descending from a ladder he hadn’t seen before. _Two levels,_ he thought. _O must be somew––_

“Bellamy?” He turned around as he heard his sister’s voice for the first time in six months. The last time he had listened to her she had been crying and begging him for help. His eyes locked on hers and he scanned her for wounds, injuries or bruises. Other than being slightly skinnier and taller, she looked just the same. Just older, more beautiful. Her face broke into a smile and he ran towards her, pulling her into his arms. 

“What…what are you doing here, Bell? How did you get here? What’s with the guard jacket?” She blurted out against his neck and he could feel her tears, he wanted to cry too. 

“I borrowed to sneak in here… I came for you,” he pulled away reluctantly, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

But their moment was interrupted. 

“She’s the one they found under the floorboards,” someone whispered behind them. Bellamy tensed, but Octavia immediately lunged forward, her fists ready to fight. 

“Hey, hey stop,” his hold tightened on her, rolling his eyes. “Not worth it, O. Let’s give you something else to remember you by, alright?” 

His sister turned to look up at him again, ready to roll her eyes right back at him. He chuckled, feeling light for the first time since she was taken away. 

“How would you like to be the first person to step on the ground in a hundred years?”

* * *

 

> _ The whispering was unescapable. Everywhere I walked the gossip followed, and I couldn’t help but wonder what everyone thought I had done to land myself in solitary.  _
> 
> _ But I didn’t ask. Instead I sat quietly at my mother’s memorial, not standing up to say a few words the way Kane and Mr. Jaha did. I pretended not to notice how Wells looked at me –– like a china doll, as if I was going to drop into the floor and break at any moment–– and I talked to no one.  _
> 
> _ A part of me wondered if Bellamy and I would cross each other on the halls. But we didn’t. I could never quite decide if I was happy or upset by it. _

The talking continued when Clarke opened her eyes. In a last attempt to keep her quiet about the malfunctioning of the Ark they had sedated her before the launch. So when she woke up she found herself in a different kind of prison, one with a hundred other people speaking excitedly loud and her own personal hell sitting next to her.

“How are you feeling?” Wells asked. 

“Wells, why the hell are you here?” Her blood boiled just by seeing him, and she pretended it didn’t hurt her when he shrunk on his seat. 

“When I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground, I got myself arrested. I came for you.”

The dropship shook and Clarke’s grip tightened on her seatbelt. 

“I can take care of my self perfectly well thank you. In fact I––“ the girl stopped talking when her mother’s voice boomed from the speakers, her eyes filling in with tears. She couldn’t pay attention to what she said, she only basked on the sound of the voice she thought she’d never hear again. 

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he started and Clarke glared at him, but Wells didn’t recoil. He knew her too well. “Look, Clarke, there’s something I want to tell you. About your dad, I’m sorry I got him arrested.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my father!”

The dropship shook again and the lights twinkled once before the electricity failed. Clarke knew they must have just crossed the atmosphere. But now her mother’s voice was gone and it didn’t matter anymore. 

“Please!” Even in the darkness she was able to see the panic in Wells’ eyes. “I can’t die knowing you hate me.”

“They didn’t arrest my father, Wells. They _executed_ him. I do hate you!” Her scream resonated in the room and she felt her cheeks flush as tears ran down them. There were dozens of kids being witnesses to their fight but she didn’t get much time to think about it. Because they landed, and for a second she didn’t mind Well’s hand closing around hers. 

The lights came back to life slowly and Clarke yanked her hand away, waiting for something to happen but nothing did. So she unbuckled herself and stood up, looking around the terrified faces. “Anyone hurt?” She asked. 

A scoff was heard and a boy with cold eyes unbuckled himself, walking past her and shoving Clarke with his shoulder. 

“Just because your mommy is the chancellor of the Ark it doesn’t mean you get to boss around people here, blondie,” he spat before heading downstairs. A hum of approval surrounded her and suddenly the backpack she carried felt heavier.

At a loss of what to say, Clarke simply followed the other kids downstairs, refusing to let her eyes fall on Wells for more than a second. 

Once she hopped from the stairs she searched the room for a familiar face, but before she could find Miller she saw _him_. 

“Bellamy,” the name escaped her lips without her permission. And when people, including him, turned around to see her she realised she hadn’t been exactly discreet. Their eyes locked for a second, and her stomach dropped when his showed nothing but disgust. 

“What are you doing?” She asked stupidly, walking towards him. His hand was on the lever, ready to open the door. She knew it was a stupid question, but it was better than admitting that she had spoken his name as a reflex. “The air could be poisonous, we could all die!”

The delinquents quieted, because even when they were all trying to seem tough they were all afraid of dying too. 

But not Bellamy, and neither did the girl who held on to his arm. 

“Well, if the air is poison we are all dead anyway. Aren’t we, _princess_?” Bellamy spit out her old nickname with enough poison to kill her in case the air didn’t. 

She stumbled backwards but he didn’t notice, because his attention was back on the lever. Before anyone could protest the door opened, and all one hundred prisoners and Bellamy shielded their eyes from the sunlight. Actual, natural sunlight. Everyone stepped forward, almost at the same time, but Bellamy stopped them. 

He nudged the girl with his arm and gave her a wink, Clarke’s stomach turned.  The girl tentatively let go of him and Clarke caught a glimpse of her face, her name too was on her lips but she swallowed before it was too late. _Octavia._

Octavia walked slowly outside of the dropship, the crowd leaning closer, all trying to get a glimpse of the outside. The green outdoors welcomed her and Clarke could swear she could hear the grass crunch underneath Octavia’s shoes. The girl extended her arms and threw her hair backwards, getting a lungful of fresh air. 

A second later she was throwing up her arms and she beamed. 

“We are back bitches!”

* * *

 

All the delinquents rushed outside, walking into the meadow they had landed on and admiring the green that surrounded them. Laughter filled the air and Clarke focused on that as she took long breaths of pure air. She wondered if Jackson was seeing this, if he was taking note that they were breathing oxygen and not dying. 

She desperately tried to picture him, focusing on the thought of her mother’s bracelets saving the human race instead of thinking of Bellamy. 

The Ground was big enough for the two of them, she was sure of it. 

She couldn’t stay still for long though, the responsibility weighted too heavy on top of her. Before being sedated she had talked for a long time with Chancellor Jaha, he had explained her in detail how to get the best out of Mt. Weather and she intended to get everything settled before sundown. She knew she had to radio back to the Ark too, but that could wait for a few seconds, couldn't it?

She walked towards a rock, using is a table to spring open her backpack. Next to her few belongings, she found the map she was looking for. She spread it across the rock, letting her backpack fall to her feet. It only took her a few minutes to realise something was wrong, very wrong. 

“Well look at that pretty backpack.” Clarke turned around when she felt someone pulling up her bag, she found herself glaring at the same boy who had shoved past her in the dropship. “Did mommy pack you some lunch?” A few people behind him laughed and Clarke felt her blood boil, her fingers twitching. 

“Drop it off, Murphy,” a different guy spoke, snatching the backpack from him and walking towards Clarke. “Can’t you see the princess here is up to something important?” He gave her both a charming smile and her bag back. 

She couldn’t quite decide what he hated more, someone else calling her princess or Bellamy speaking it in the way he just had. 

“So, _you_ are the traitor who’s been on solitary for more than a year.” 

Clarke frowned, from the corner of her eyes she could see Murphy and his pose walking away. She could also see Wells approaching them. 

“You are the _idiot_ who wasted a month of oxygen on an illegal spacewalk,” she guessed, her voice steady and confident. She had overheard some people addressing him as ‘Spacewalker.’

He beamed. “But it was fun. Call me Finn.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the map, once more confirming what she had figured out before Murphy came around. 

“What’s wrong Clarke?” Wells asked from behind her, her hand closed into a fist. 

“Princess?” Finn asked, his voice sincere this time. 

She looked up, and she found the perfect opportunity to get back at Wells. Making contact with Finn, and Finn only, she pointed North. “You see that peak over there?”  Finn nodded, obviously uncomfortable under Wells glaring.  “Mt. Weather. There’s a radiation-soaked forest between us and our next meal. They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain.”

As she turned around to face Finn again she caught a glimpse of Bellamy, who had been obviously listening and now headed towards them.


	21. Flickering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about how long it has been!! I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter <3

 

“What are you all mumbling about?” Bellamy asked as he reached them, his eyes fell on Clarke shortly before focusing on the two boys. Both Wells and Finn looked at her, expecting her to tell him about her newest discovery, they were looking up at her, just as many of the delinquents were already looking up at Bellamy. There was something about the guard jacket, his gun and the fact that he was much older than everyone else, he also knew how to make the people feel safe, even if they had just known him for a few seconds. 

Clarke knew that she had to speak, she had to push aside all thoughts of that last conversation through the metal door and focus on the mission before them, but Clarke’s mouth was suddenly dry as she stared at Bellamy, whose eyes were looking anywhere but her.

_ Why?  _ She wanted to ask him.  _ Why? Why? Why? Why did you leave me? _

It took her longer than she would have liked to admit, but she found her words eventually. 

“You heard what my mother said. If we want to survive Mt. Weather is the only choice. But we weren’t dropped  _ at  _ Mt. Weather, there must have been some sort of mistake. We need to get moving immediately so we can arrive before the sun goes down. We don’t know whatever dangerous things might be out there at night.”

Behind Bellamy somebody scoffed, Clarke had heard Murphy scoff way too many times in the last half an hour, so she didn’t have to look to know it was him, but she did it anyway glaring at Murphy shortly before returning her eyes to Bellamy. 

“Look at them, just because they were born in Phoenix they already think they are Chancellors of the Ground.” He rolled his eyes at Bellamy waiting for him to say something, Bellamy locked his eyes with Clarke’s for a second before the two looked away simultaneously. Her fists tightened harder. 

“We are not trying to rule anyone,” she spoke clearly, annoyance clear in every single one of her words. “But unless we all work together we are not going to survive down here. Mt. Weather has food and shelter, we need to go  _ now.”  _

“Why don’t  _ you  _ go?” Bellamy snapped right after she was done talking. “I’ve  _ had it  _ with people like you, Princess. For all I know Mt. Weather is just another trap designed by your kind, a way to give you two the power and to float all of us when we are not needed anymore. The way I see it, we have shelter right here.” He pointed at the dropship behind him. “And we are not stupid, we can hunt. So why don’t you two stop giving away orders like you are some kind of Chancellors of the Earth, and waltz to your precious Mt. Weather. If you come back with food and convincing argument we might go back there with you.”

“It’s about time you rich kids do the hard work for once,” Murphy snickered. 

“Hey,” Finn protested, stepping forward. Clarke’s thoughts quickly shifted to the spacewalker next to her, wondering why did he seemed to care so much already. It was the second time he was standing up for her to Murphy and they had only known each other for an hour at most. But before Finn could say anything else Clarke took a step forward too. 

“We’ll do it,” she said sternly, her eyes hard. “I’ll round up a few people and we’ll get going.”

She readied herself to walk past the two of them when her eyes fell on Murphy’s arm, his wrist was red and had visible scratches where the wristband should be. When she looked up at him her eyes were burning. 

“Where the hell is your wristband?”

“I took it off,” he shrugged. “None of your business.”

“How could you do that?!” She yelled, from the corner of her eye she could see the way the rest of the delinquents were now looking at her. Instead of focusing on her audience she took a step forward and pushed Murphy's chest roughly. All of her pent up frustration –– her mother’s death, the journey to the Ground, having Wells down with her, and Bellamy... above everything else, Bellamy –– contributed to her being stronger than usual. Murphy stumbled backwards and tripped with a rock, almost falling to the mud. “Are you stupid!? People up there are counting on us you idiot, if you take off the wristbands they will think we are dead! Do you really want your parents to think you died?”

“Not everyone had a perfect life up in the Ark,  _ Princess, _ ” Murphy spat on her shoes, his eyes cold and cruel. 

A lot of things happened at the same time, Finn lunged forwards again and Clarke tried to stop him from getting to Murphy. But she was surprised to see Bellamy too was ready to jump over Murphy, or it might have been a confusion, she could have imagined it. Either way, it was Wells Jaha, the boy that had never picked up a fight in his life, who ended up on top of Murphy, fighting with him. 

“Wells!” Clarke cried, but he didn’t listen. Instead he punched Murphy’s jaw, but he was rewarded with a punch to his ribs, and then another one. 

The delinquents surrounded them in seconds, chanting excitedly as they watched the fight. Clarke cried Wells’ name again, but this time it wasn’t to stop him, but to beg Murphy to stop. He didn’t listen. It was Finn who finally managed to part them, receiving a few punches of his own. Murphy seemed ready to lunge forward again and continue to punch both of them but Bellamy stopped him with a stern look. 

“Seems like Chancellor Jaha won’t be able to go to Mt. Weather with you, Princess,” he mocked, pointing his chin at Wells.

Clarke glared at him before looking at the rest of the delinquents, they were looking at her expectantly, ready to hear her comeback. 

“Don’t be stupid," she addressed them, ignoring Bellamy completely. "Those wristbands are our only chance of making it. Without the Ark and its resources we will all be dead in weeks.” Murmurs of agreement surrounded her and she sighed, looking at Finn who was helping Wells up. “You heard what my mother said, Mt. Weather has shelter and food, and I’m going to find it. Whoever wants to come with me, we leave in fifteen.” 

Clarke walked past Bellamy without glancing at him again, grabbing her backpack and map before heading towards the dropship. She was aware that mostly everyone was watching her, so she decided not to look back, not once. Biting her lip so that it wouldn't quiver, she pushed the map on her backpack, but stopped immediately when she heard her name being spoken by a very familiar voice. She turned around to search his face, breathing out his name. 

She dropped her bag when she spotted him, half running towards him until he caught up with her, hugging her tight for the first time in months. 

“I missed you so much, Clarke," he murmured into her hair. 

“Me too, Miller. _So much._ ”

She had known that he was going to be there, when she had gone through the The 100 Project with Jaha she had seen Miller's name on the list, he had been arrested a few months ago because of stealing. It had killed Clarke, to think that she was in someway responsible to have Miller sent to the Sky Box. But seeing him only made things better. She was not alone, she could make it through anything the Ground threw her way if Miller was there with her. 

He pulled away and smiled at her, pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. 

“Let’s get ready, we leave in fifteen minutes, right?”

Clarke beamed, nodding and turning around to walk back inside the dropship. When doing so she caught a glimpse of Bellamy, who was once again staring at her. And this time he looked as if it had been him and not Wells who had just been punched in the stomach. 

 

 

* * *

 

“Where the hell do you think you are going?” 

Octavia rolled her eyes before turning around to face her brother. “Mt. Weather.”

“Why?” His eyes were hard but she knew that he was hiding something, it scared her not to be able to read him as easily as she had done it before. Back then she would have known exactly what had been bothering him, but now she had only a fait idea. Maybe the six months had taken more toll on them than she thought. 

“Because all of my life I’ve been a prisoner, Bell. And I am _tired._ ” She knew the words stung, but she would never forgive herself if she didn’t say them. “Whatever thing happened between you and Clarke is obviously not my business, and I’ll stay out of it. But you can’t make me stay here. You can’t lock me up anymore.”

Bellamy sighed, his eyes shifted to the small party that was gathered around Clarke. The Jaha kid was sulking, visibly upset about the fact that Murphy had hurted his ankle and he couldn’t follow his precious Clarke around the forest. The spacewalker was there too, fighting too hard for her attention, but she only had eyes for Miller. Bellamy knew him, of course he did. His father was the chief of the guard, he had been his superior for months, and he had been the one to officially fire him after Octavia was discovered. Miller Jr. had always been nice to him, but right now he didn’t rank high on Bellamy’s list, just looking at the way he made Clarke smile made his stomach tighten. 

“Unless you want to tell me exactly what happened with you and Clarke. In that case I’ll stay right here,” Octavia continued, and Bellamy tore his eyes from the blonde to look at his sister again. Sighing once more he ran a hand through his face, she was blackmailing him and he knew that. 

“If you come back with a single scratch…” 

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. Octavia took a few steps and kissed her brother’s cheek, smiling when she parted. “Try and look more cheerful, alright? We are free, Bell! I don’t have to hide down here, no one is going to float us just because I was born. You heard Chancellor Griffin, our crimes have been ‘pardoned’.” She raised her fingers to draw air quotes before walking away. 

Bellamy followed her with his gaze, not reminding her that not everyone down in the Ground had been pardoned. 

 

* * *

 

“Stop looking at me like that, Wells,” Clarke said calmly and without looking at him, which only contributed to make him look more like a kicked puppy. “You will only slow us down and you know that. Besides someone has to stay here to try and fix the radio.”

“I have  _ no idea  _ how to fix the radio.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Finn chimed in, oblivious to the tension between the old friends. Miller, who was more informed on the topic simply looked at her. 

“See? You'll figure it out," Clarke said, finally looking up from her map and pointing at the forest. "Let's go."

“Wait up!” Octavia said as she jogged to catch up with them, Clarke felt her stomach tighten and she searched for Bellamy with her eyes but he was nowhere to be found. Octavia eyed her carefully, figuring out easily who Clarke was searching for but unable to piece together whatever it was that had made the relationship between Clarke and her brother fall apart. Somehow it didn't seem like her place to ask. “Alright, who else is coming with us?” 

Clarke swallowed, her eyes focusing on Octavia. This was _absolutely_ not how she had expected their first conversation to go. But things had changed way too fast, and she still had no idea why. 

“This is Miller, and he is Finn. Monty and Jasper are also coming with us,” she listed, pointing at the boys as she mentioned them. “We better get going.”

With that being said, Clarke started walking towards the forest. Ignoring Wells completely when he tried to wish her a good journey. His ‘may we meet again’ echoing on her head as she silently trailed across the trees, eyes locked on her map. 

 

“I reckon you are not forgiving him,” Miller pointed out an hour later as they walked across a river. “Can’t say I blame you. But I also think you should give the guy a break, at least a chance to explain himself.”

“He got my father killed, Nate,” she reminded him sternly, looking up to see Miller wince. “I know it was not his intention, and that he thought he was going to help. But that doesn’t matter. I told him to keep the secret and she went behind my back, my dad is gone, and now so is my mom. And there’s nothing Wells can do or say to bring them back.”

“Wait,  _ what?”  _  Miller stopped on his track, pulling Clarke backwards so that she would stare at her. She could feel the cold running water on her shoes and she tried to focus on that. For a moment she had forgotten Miller had been on the Sky Box when it had happened, he didn't know. None of them knew, except Wells and maybe Bellamy. “Your mom died?”

They had been walking in front of the small group, so obviously the rest stopped when Miller made her stop walking. Clarke shifted uncomfortably at all the eyes that were now on her. 

“She, uhm… she died a few days ago. Right after finishing the design of the wristbands apparently. The doctors still don't know why, it seemed like natural causes, but she was supposed to be getting much better.”

Miller tried to pull her close again, but this time Clarke refused to hug him. There was nothing she wanted more than to bury her face on her friend’s chest and cry, to let herself be comforted. The funeral, Jaha announcing her mother’s death… it had happened too fast, and she had been alone for all of it. But she couldn’t break down now, not yet.

“But you heard what she said, we need to get to Mt. Weather, so let’s get moving.” 

Miller nodded, reaching for her hand and this time she accepted, linking their fingers together and squeezing his hand gently. She avoided the eyes of everyone else, trying not to notice the pity in all of them and she started walking again. 

 

“This one is a little too strong for us to walk through it,” Finn pointed out needlessly. They all looked at Clarke, who in return stared at the wide river that separated them from Mt. Weather. 

“Then we don’t walk through it,” Monty suggested from behind her, finally getting her to look away from the water. She knew Monty, she has seen him a few times in class, and along with Jasper he had been quite known among the people their age because of the party products they offered. More than once she had gone with Miller to buy some of his famous moonshine. She knew that he was skilled for other things too, he was always top of their Math class. 

“It’s too long to go around it, Monty,” Miller commented but Clarke cut him off. 

“What are you thinking?”

“We can swing across it,” Monty shrugged, pointing at a few vines that hung from the trees. 

Finn’s face brightened, walking towards them and tugging. “They seem safe enough,” he commented before looking back to the group. “Who’s going first?”

“I am!” Jasper said eagerly, Clarke had noticed the way he looked at Octavia, how he puffed out his chest whenever she was looking in his direction, and how desperately he had been trying to impress her during the past few hours, so when Finn looked at her for confirmation she nodded. 

“Let’s do this, Jasper,” Finn encouraged him, handing him the vine

The following moment would replay on Clarke’s mind thousands of times: Jasper swung across the river, the teenagers cheered as he landed on the other shore. Jasper raised the Mt. Weather sign and they cheered louder. For the first time in months, and for the last time on the weeks to come, Clarke was unbelievably and genuinely happy. 

Then she heard something. 

It all happened in a matter of seconds, Jasper wasn’t done celebrating when Clarke heard a rustling of the leaves in the tree behind them. And in there she saw a dark figure pointing a bow and arrow at Octavia. The happiness ended. 

She screamed as the arrow flew through the air, lunging forward and knocking Octavia to the ground. She didn’t care about the pain in her shoulder as she landed badly on top of it, she only cared about the fact that Bellamy’s sister was safe, and the arrow didn’t hit her. The dark figure on the tree disappeared and everything was silent for a second. 

Then Monty cried out, and Clarke turned around to see Jasper’s lifeless body across the river.

 

* * *

“Bellamy, they are back!” Someone announced before running out from the dropship. He quickly stood from where he was and walked outside, he had been helping people settle for the night but he had mostly been worrying about Octavia. The crowd opened, allowing him a better look of the scouting group that was returning. 

The first thing he registered was that they brought no food, but before he could think of a snarky comment he noticed Octavia was limping and leaning on Clarke for support as she walked. In a matter of seconds he was on their side, taking his sister in his arms and scanning her for injuries. 

“I’m fine,” she protested. And she was, other than dust on her clothes and a few scratches she was fine. “I twisted my ankle, that’s all.” But Bellamy wasn’t listening anymore. 

“This is  _ your  _ fault!” He roared, glaring at Clarke. He was only fazed by her expression for a second, she looked like she was about to cry at his words, but when the second was over and he continued to yell at her. “Is this what you wanted Princess?! You went after your stupid Mt. Weather and look at what happened!” 

Clarke stared at him, biting her lip and keeping her chin tall. Silent. 

“She saved my life!” Octavia cried, pushing away from him and making Bellamy snap out of his thoughts. “If it wasn’t for her I would be dead!” Bellamy looked at his sister, speechless. “So you are going to shut up and follow her back to the river to save Jasper.”

“Jasper?” 

“We are not alone,” Clarke said finally, shrinking slightly when Bellamy finally looked at her. “Someone shot Jasper. We thought he was dead but he isn’t, and we have to go back to get him. I hear you have a gun.”

Bellamy patted his belt, nodding when he felt the gun. He returned his eyes to his sister, who continued to glare at him. 

“Let’s go then,” Octavia said. Before her brother could protest Clarke did. 

“You have to stay, O.” The nickname sounded foreign in her mouth, and she tried not to think much of it. “Stay with Monty." For the first time Bellamy focused on the rest of the group, only to see the boy that must have been Monty. He had seen him with Jasper earlier, and now he seemed as if he was going to faint at any moment. "You go and help Wells with the radio, you can’t walk and you know that. We’ll be back with Jasper soon.”

“Are you sure you want to go? You look tired,” Finn asked, making Clarke break eye contact with Octavia. 

“Of course I’m going,” Clarke said, turning around and walking back into the forest. In less than a second Bellamy walked behind her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see we are on the last few chapters of this fic!! As some of you have noticed the way the chapters are called have changed, in the beginning there were two adjectives per letter, symbolizing the fact that Bellamy and Clarke were apart, but now that they are together... well, let's just say things just got exciting ;)


	22. Earthbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while, but I hope you enjoy it!!

Jasper’s screams were played on repeat inside her head. Clarke’s hands had remained steady as she was cutting out the infected flesh, maybe it was because of her medical training, or maybe it was because Wells was there. They were both focused on bringing Jasper back to life, she couldn’t think about the Ark and the way he had betrayed her and her father. Clarke focused instead on Well’s soothing voice, his repeating over and over again that Jasper was doing great, he was going to be fine. 

Clarke bandaged the wound, when she was tying together the bandages her blood covered fingers started to shake again. Jasper was not crying out in pain anymore, but she knew it was only a matter of time before the yelling started again. 

“Clarke?”

“Not now, Wells. I need to––”

“I know, Jasper is priority now. Just take a look at this, I think this is what the Grounders used to cauterize the wound.”

She walked towards Wells and examined the red weeds on his hands, at first she had thought it was Jasper’s blood that had tainted the Grounder bandages, but now that she knew red was its natural color another image came to her mind. 

“The river,” she breathed out.

“That is what I was thinking too. It’s definitely a seaweed, see? No root structure.”

“Go get Miller, I’m going to tell Octavia and Monty to stay with Jasper.”

 

Less than ten minutes later they were walking out of camp, Clarke had instructed Octavia to notify her brother as soon as he came back from his hunting trip, and she pretended not to notice the question in Octavia’s eyes. Whatever it was that had caused Bellamy to walk away from her, his sister was obviously not aware of. Clarke was dying to ask her how she had ended up in the Ground, but she knew that less she interacted with the Blakes the better. 

“How do you know Octavia Blake?” Wells asked her as they walked towards the river. 

“I have my ways.”

“But, she was caught way after you were–– uh, imprisoned.”

“You mean after  _ you _ had me imprisoned.”

“Guys,” Miller quickly walked in between them forcing Clarke to tone down her glare. “This is no time to be arguing alright? Jasper is dying.”

Clarke nodded and picked up her pace, with their much longer legs the two boys soon caught up with her and soon they made it to the river.

Before Wells could finish a coherent sentence about the dangers of stepping into the river Clarke was already waddling towards the red seaweed that floated on the surface. The water surrounded her waist and the two boys glued their eyes to her, ready to pounce if she so much as whimpered. 

She didn’t, Clarke made her way back safely to the shore and shoved the seaweed on Wells’ arms before heading back to the camp.   _ Well, this wasn’t that bad,  _ she thought.  _ No radioactive animals in the river, no Grounders in the trees. No one is bleeding or dying.  _ Before Clarke could pat herself on the back for the successful outing a loud horn was heard, almost at the same time a flock of birds took flight quickly. 

“What the hell was that?” Miller asked, stopping on his tracks.

“I don’t know, it sounded like a warning,” Wells pointed. 

The two of them looked at Clarke, who simply stared back at them cluelessly. Just then the ground trembled slightly, and she looked up to see a bunch of animals running in their direction but ignoring them completely. They were running away. Suddenly she felt sixteen all over again, sitting in a classroom with her perfectly ordered Earth Skills notes in front of her.  _ If the animals run, run with them. If the animals are scared you can be damn sure you should be scared too.  _

Before she could register the memory, she noticed a yellowish fog seeping over the lake. Her eyes widened and her arm moved without her permission, Clarke tugged on Wells’ shirt and pulled him with her. 

“Run!”

Both Miller and Wells ran after her, Miller was soon ahead of the trio, leading them to a hideout he had found while exploring earlier. Clarke shimmied herself inside a dusty car, there was barely space for the three of them together but she didn’t care. They slammed the door shut and she used her hand to try and clean the window from the inside, she could see nothing but the fog. 

“You think it’s poisonous?” Wells asked. 

“Fog is not supposed to be yellow,” she grumbled, trying to make herself comfortable in the old car seat. 

“Stop shimmying, Griffin,” Miller protested, even when he was squirming himself. A smirk formed on his face. “It’s not like this is the smallest place we have crammed together, all three of us.”

The three laughed, with everything that had been going on it was easy to forget that the three of them knew each other since birth. In fact, it was because of that very reason that they were all down on the Ground. Wells had made it pretty clear that he had followed her, and according to the records Miller had been caught stealing food. They used to do that together, steal food and medicines to take them to the stations less privileged than theirs. They were the Robin Hoods of the Ark, until one by one they had all landed on the Sky Box. 

“Remember that time we were stealing the painkillers and we heard Jackson walking down the hall? You pulled Miller in for a kiss so that Jackson didn’t even notice me going through the medicine cabinet.”

Miller’s familiar laughter filled the car at the memory, but Clarke’s smile died as soon as Wells spoke. 

“Remember that time you betrayed me and got my father executed?” Suddenly the inside of the car was very quiet. “I do.”

Clarke didn’t face any of them, she knew that Wells would have that kicked-puppy face all over again, and Miller would want the two of them to talk things out. The silence turned heavy, and Clarke had the sudden wish to storm out of the car, she always walked away from arguments like this, but this time she had nowhere to run away to. Which was maybe why she couldn’t hold back her following words. 

“Now that we are on the subject, especially since  _ you _ brought it out because I don’t want to talk about it. How could you, Wells?” Her eyes landed on his familiar ones and she teared up. “What were you thinking?”

“I made a mistake, Clarke.”

She let out a shaky laugh, an attempt to be sarcastic, but both the boys knew her too well for that. “ _ I made a mistake, Clarke,”  _ she mocked him. “I bet you couldn’t wait to run to daddy. Tell him everything so that he’d finally believe you were the perfect son he always wanted. I bet you couldn’t wait for him to talk about you the way he talked about Nate.”

“Clarke!” Miller’s voice was angry, but she didn’t look away from Wells. 

“What do you want me to say, Clarke? What do you want from me?!”

“I want an explanation!”

“Well I don’t have one. I thought I could trust him.”

“Well, I thought I could trust my best friend. Guess we were both wrong.”

“I’m still your friend.”

“No, you are not. If you were my friend, you would walk out into that fog and never come back.”

“Clarke, that is enough!” Miller cut her short, finally managing to get her to look at him. Clarke felt the unmistakable feeling of guilt on the pit of her stomach, especially because Wells seemed to be seriously considering to walk out on the fog. With a long sigh, she turned her back to both of them, closing her eyes in an attempt to turn off the memories until the fog cleared away.

* * *

 

Bellamy was being over cautious, but he did not make it down to the ground to be killed by a stupid acid fog. Once he was absolutely sure that the fog had cleared he made it out of the cave they had hidden in, his feet taking him back to the camp quickly. He knew that Clarke was in camp, and she would have noticed the way the animals behaved, she would have taken the horn as a warning. Bellamy was positive she had called everyone inside the dropship and they were all safe, listening to Jasper’s cries of pain. Octavia was safe, she  _ had  _ to be safe. 

Harper and Monroe followed him out of the cave. 

“You think Atom made it back to the camp?” One of them whispered, Bellamy wasn’t quite sure which one. He didn’t turn around, he didn’t care about the fact that the four of them were supposed to bring back food to the camp. All of that had to wait, he had to make sure Octavia was safe too. 

They were feet away from camp when Harper screamed, this time Bellamy did turn around, his hand tightly holding on his gun ready to attack. But there was nothing to shoot at. Harper was sobbing into Monroe’s neck, and Monroe was trying to hold back a cry of her own while comforting her friend. Bellamy followed her wide eyes to a body half hidden by the grass. 

Once he steadied himself he kneeled next to Atom’s body, he recognized him because of the jacket. Other than that, he was completely unrecognizable. The skin was broken in blisters, his lips purple and the bloodshot eyes begging him to put an end to all of it. 

“Go to camp,” Bellamy instructed the girls. “Make sure everyone’s okay.” 

He used them as an excuse to look away from Atom’s squirming body, following both the girls with his eyes as they disappeared into the right direction. Bellamy took a deep breath and searched for his knife on his jacket. He knew what he had to do, but every single one of Atom’s broken breaths made it harder.

He felt her presence without hearing a thing. Bellamy turned around and Clarke was standing behind him, her blue eyes were teary and her skin was perfect. She was safe. Before he could ask her what she was doing out of camp she walked towards him, kneeling on the Atom’s other side. 

“Harper found him,” he explained hoarsely, and she nodded. “I sent them back to camp.”

“Okay,” Clarke said, her voice slightly more acute than it usually was. Bellamy knew she was trying to comfort  _ him,  _ not Atom.  _ Him.  _

Her blue eyes moved to the body in between them, quickly assessing the damage the fog had caused. When she looked back up at his face, Bellamy was still watching her. She shook her head delicately and he swallowed. It had been so difficult to read her through the closed metal door, but now that there was hardly anything between them, reading her mind came like second nature to him. Most times, at least. 

“I’m going to help you,” she promised Atom. Her small hand took his knife, sending shivers down his spine as their fingers brushed. A small, selfish part of him acknowledged it was the first time they touched. 

Bellamy continued to watch her as she hummed a lullaby, sinking the knife in Atom’s throat and stroking his hair as he stopped breathing. When she looked up, Bellamy noticed the tears on her cheeks, but she was no longer looking at him. He turned around to notice Miller and Wells standing behind him, a reddish bundle of weeds on the Chancellor’s kid. 

As soon as Clarke stood up and walked towards them it was easy to remember that he hated her, especially when Miller’s arms closed around her shortly. 

“You go save Jasper,” Wells said softly, placing the weeds on Clarke’s hands. “We’ll take care of Atom.”

* * *

 

Jasper breathed much better after he drank the tea she made out of the seaweeds, his wound was looking healthier and healthier by the minute. And eventually his incomprehensible mumbles became weak sentences, his grimaces became real smiles. The days went by and the camp grew. Bellamy had been working with most of the delinquents to build a wall around the dropship and the tents. Communication with the Ark was yet to be established, but at least for now the majority of the delinquents seemed to be keeping their bracelets on.

Clarke was packaging food, double checking every ration so she made sure none had more dried fruit than the others. She recognized Miller’s quiet steps behind her and she took a step to the right so that he could help her. 

“I wish you’d cut him some slack, you know?”

“Bellamy?” She teased, though the name burned on her throat a little. 

“Wells,” Miller deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Bellamy too, though I guess you have a little more right there. What did you do to make him hate you so much?”

_ So it is  _ that  _ obvious,  _ Clarke thought, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“How do you even know him?”

“He was my guard when I was in solitary, we may have exchanged some words.”

She didn’t have to look to know Miller was rolling his eyes again. 

“Alright, go ahead, be cryptic on the whole Bellamy issue, I don’t give a damn. That’s not why I am here.”

“You are telling me it’s not because of my amazing personality?”

Miller turned her around by the shoulder, his eyes were serious and Clarke shrunk. 

“You have to talk to him.”

“I don’t want to talk to him! He got my father killed, Miller.  _ Killed.” _

“Just, hear me out alright?” Miller sighed, removing his hand from Clarke’s shoulder and rubbing his face. “I thought he had given me away too, after I heard he had sold you and your dad out I kicked his ass, he was in the med bay for a week.” Clarke’s eyes widened, she hadn’t heard any of this. “I stopped talking him for you, Clarke. Because what he did wasn’t fair, you told both of us to keep your father’s secret and he gave it away. And then, when I was thrown in the Sky Box for stealing I was sure it had been him, he was the only one who could have told Shumway about our hideout.”

“He ratted you out?!”

“No, he didn’t. And that is my point exactly, when he came to visit me in the Sky Box I spat on his face and told him to float himself. He didn’t ask why, he didn’t try to defend himself, so I figured it had been him. But it wasn’t, my mom ratted me out.”

“ _ What?”  _

Miller swallowed hard but his eyes softened. “She knew I wouldn’t be floated, she made sure of that, perks of having an important father, I guess. She had me thrown in the Sky Box so that I would learn my lesson and stop breaking the rules, and Wells knew that. I asked him when we got here.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say that Wells and I were the only people  _ you  _ told about your father, but that doesn’t mean we were the only people that knew.”

 

Ever since the pieces of the puzzle had fallen together on her head, Clarke couldn’t focus for long on anything. She walked by Wells’ tent a dozen of times before going back to the dropship. It was one thing to want know the truth, and a completely different thing to be ready to hear it. 

She walked past the fireplace on the way to the medbay, she had been sleeping there just in case anyone needed her during the night. Clarke recognized Well’s silhouette by the fire and her feet stopped, it took her three long breaths to finally walk up to him. Sitting next to him on the log. 

“Is everything alri––”

“I know I probably don’t deserve it but I have to know the truth. It was my mother, wasn’t it?” She choked out, Clarke wasn’t entirely sure when she had started to cry. “She’s the one who told your dad. I didn’t want to believe it. I… I couldn’t. I blamed you because my father’s dead and it’s my mother’s fault. Isn’t it? Wells… Please."

“I knew how you would feel, especially after she died. I wanted to––”

“To protect me. So you let me hate you?”

“What are friends for?”

“How could you forgive me?”

“That is already done.”

Clarke let out a sob for the first time in the Ground, for the first time since her mother’s funeral she allowed herself to break down. Because it was the middle of the night, almost everyone was asleep and it wasn’t Wells’ fault. 

Wells’ familiar arms closed around her and she sobbed into his neck, mumbling apologies even when he waved away every single one of them. After a couple of minutes her sobs became silent, but she didn’t move. Hating Wells had been so exhausting, she wasn’t quite ready to let go of him just yet. 

“Did Miller tell you?” He whispered after a while. 

“I might have nudged her into the right direction,” a voice from behind them spoke, making them both jump. Miller smiled amusedly and he walked around the log so he could sit down on Clarke’s other side. 

For a moment it almost seemed like it was all perfect, with her two best friends by her side, the warm fire and the camp safe. The moment ended slowly. 

“Look, a shooting star.” Clarke looked up from Wells’ neck to the bright line on the sky. 

“Make a wish,” Miller mocked, elbowing her as she tried to remember everything she knew about stars. She might have dozed during Astronomy, but there was something she was positive about. 

“That is not a shooting star.”

 

The three of them stormed inside the dropship, Octavia stood up from beside Jasper’s bed. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Where is Bellamy?”

“He just went to sleep, he said the scouting team should go to sleep early so they can check out the pod tomorrow. I thought it was a shooting star at first but Monty says it's one of the Arks' pods. Clarke, is something wrong?”

“You think they sent supplies, maybe a radio?” Monty chimed in.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just don’t think we should wait.”

“That’s what I told him,” Octavia sighed. “He was very stubborn about it, but maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

_ I doubt it,  _ Clarke thought to herself before turning to her friends. “Get Finn, I’ll get Bellamy. We leave in ten.”

The delinquents moved out of her way as she made her way decidedly towards Bellamy’s tent, after calling out his name twice she entered the tent unceremoniously. When she came out she was fuming. 

“What’s wrong?” Wells asked, Clarke grabbed her backpack on the way to the woods, this time the guys had a hard time to catch up. She was running.

“He is already gone.”

* * *

 

It was kind of surreal, to see Raven take her first breath of fresh air. Clarke remembered when that had been her, freshly showered from the Ark, innocently taking in the beauty of Earth. It hadn't even been two weeks yet, but she already felt like she had been on the Ground for years now. 

“Is this rain?”

“Welcome home,” Clarke chuckled. 

“Raven?” Both the girls turned around to face Finn. In less than three seconds Raven was wrapped around him, kissing him deeply. Clarke looked away, focusing on her shoes. 

“What’s wrong?” Wells asked again, this time softer. 

“She had a crush on Spacewalker,” Miller teased her.

"Or on Raven," Wells giggled.

Clarke rolled her eyes, allowing both her friends to mock her. Because it was much better than the alternative. She couldn't tell them the truth. She couldn't tell them that the way she had breathed out his name, how they had gravitated towards each other. That was exactly how she had imagined her first meeting with Bellamy to be. And now she was chasing after him, making sure he didn’t let his hatred towards her kill the entire human race. Everything was wrong.

“Clarke?” The blonde turned around to see Raven, she was now sitting on a rock with Finn tending lovingly to her wounds. “This is all because of your mom.”

“My mom?”

“She was afraid the communication would be lost with you guys, that the bracelets wouldn’t be enough to convince the others that the Earth is survivable. She was supposed to come down with me, if we don’t establish contact with the Ark they are going to kill three hundred people to save air.”

“When?”

“Today,” she stood from the rock and limped towards the dropship. “The radio's gone. It must've gotten loose during reentry. I should've strapped it to the A-strut. Stupid!” She hit the pod in frustration at the same moment that Clarke’s blood froze on her veins, she had been too naive to think they could get to the pod before Bellamy. 

When she turned around she knew they were all thinking the same thing. 

“Follow me,” Finn said immediately searching for a trail. 

 

His shoulders were sunk and he seemed tired, but that didn’t stop Clarke to cut on his way, making him stumble. “Where is it?”

“Hey Princess, you taking a walk on the woods too?”

"They're getting ready to kill three hundred people up there to save oxygen, and I can guarantee you it won't be council members. It'll be working people. Your people,” she hissed. Bellamy seemed horrified for a second, but Finn didn’t give him enough time to react. 

He shoved Bellamy’s chest. “Bellamy where is the radio?”

“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.” He shoved Finn back.

“Bellamy Blake?” Raven made it sound like his name was made of poison. “They are looking everywhere for you.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy growled, causing Finn to shove him again.

"Looking for him? Why?" Clarke questioned Raven.

“He’s the one that shot Chancellor Jaha?”

“Jaha was shot?” Clarke breathed out, but before anyone could muster out an answer, Wells was taking over Finn’s job and he pushed Bellamy onto the ground. 

“That’s why you wanted the wristbands off, if they think we are dead they won’t come to get you. You _murderer_ ,” he spat. 

Bellamy stood up, getting started to walk away. This time it was Raven who cut in front of him. “Where is my radio?”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Well I’m right here,” Raven threatened, not even blinking when Bellamy pushed her against a tree, pulling out his knife. “Where is my radio?” She asked again, her voice steady. 

“Jaha deserved to die and you know that!”

“Hey!” Miller held on to Wells, preventing him from lurging at Bellamy again. 

“Well, he is not my favorite person either but he is not dead.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are a lousy shot, you didn’t kill him.”

“Bellamy, don't you see what this means?” Clarke spoke quickly, trying to solve things as fast as possible. The knife left Raven’s throat and Clarke kept talking, not realizing it wasn’t her place anymore. “You're not a murderer. You always did what you had to do to protect your sister. That's who you are. And you can do it again by protecting three hundred of your people. Where's the radio?"

“You don’t get to talk like that Clarke! You don’t get to act like you know me or Octavia! You don’t get to say those things to me when it’s your fault––”

Clarke never got to hear what was her fault, because he was interrupted by Raven’s horrified scream, she turned around to see a tall figure, obviously human, that was heading towards Bellamy, a sword on his hand ready to be used.

Bellamy’s eyes widened but he didn’t make an effort to move away from the Grounder. In fact, if it wasn’t for Clarke he would have ended up dead for sure. She pushed him out of the way and Bellamy rolled on the grass, the Grounder was now on top of Clarke. He didn’t pin her down for long, before she could think about how to get him off her she saw someone swinging at the Grounder’s head. 

She was breathing heavily when Wells and Miller helped her get the Grounder’s unconscious body from on top of her, it wasn’t until Wells wrapped his hands around her, ready to pick her up, that she realized she was shaking. Her eyes focused on Bellamy’s, the question burning in his brown eyes.

“Are you okay?” Asked Raven, voicing his concern. 

Clarke shifted her eyes to Raven and Finn, they were both looking at her with terrified expressions. She fixed her own face and stood up, dusting her clothes in an attempt to hide herself from everyone’s glances. Miller and Wells’ hands were hovering her, ready to catch her up if she fell down. But she didn’t. 

“I’m fine,” she said, surprised when the voice came out steady. She finally fixed her eyes on the Grounder at her feet. His dark skin was concealed under heavy clothes, and in his belt he was carrying various vials. 

“Should we…?” Raven didn’t finish her sentence, but they all knew what she meant. All eyes turned to Bellamy and Clarke, the two exchanged a look before Clarke kneeled closer to the Grounder. A certain reddish weed sticking out of his bag catching her attention. 

“He is the one that speared Jasper.”

“Are you sure?” 

“I could bet on it, he is also the one that healed him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Clarke.” Bellamy’s voice was calm but tired. 

“I know it doesn’t, which is why we are going to take him with us.”

“ _ That  _ doesn’t make any sense,” he growled. 

Clarke stood again, her eyes burning into his. He almost shrunk down under the weight of her eyes. 

“He knows what plants are poisonous and which ones are not, he can help us, Bellamy.”

“And after the first impression we just gave him, what makes  you think he is going to help us?”

“Well, we are not going to give him an option.”

* * *

 

“You go with Monty, see if you can save your radio with the pieces we have here.” 

Raven didn’t seem very convinced but she did what Clarke asked anyway. She entered the dropship, reminding Finn and Wells that no one should enter it without permission, and she made her way to the upper level. Bellamy and Miller were going through the Grounder’s belonging, and the Grounder remained unconscious but now tied down to a chair. 

“Found anything?”

“A lot of vials and what seems to be a first aid kit, but I wouldn’t put money on it.” Miller replied. “And a notebook, Bellamy is going through it now.”

Bellamy seemed to be in pain as he flipped the pages of the notebook, finally handing it back to Clarke without so much as glancing at her. She weighted the paper on her hands, thinking about all the art supplies Bellamy had sneaked for her, all the drawings she had slid under the door for him. Was he thinking of the same thing?

“This is great… except that it’s not in English, if we could break down the language this would help us  _ so much. _ ” She flipped through pages and pages of drawings of plants, dry flowers and what seemed to be their descriptions.

“Take it to Octavia,” Bellamy said, his eyes glued to the Grounder as he sat down on a chair, turning his back at them.. “She is good with languages.”

Clarke nodded, she went down the stairs to Wells, who was still keeping guard, and asked him to get Octavia. She went up again, sitting against the wall as she continued to go through the pages. Miller sat down next to her so he could peek over her shoulder. The two of them gasped at the same time when their eyes fell on a particular set of pages. 

“What?” Bellamy asked, turning around but only addressing Miller. 

Clarke’s hand was shaking when she turned the notebook around, it was shaking so bad that Bellamy had to walk from his position to grab the notebook from her. On the right page a tally mark was shown, but he couldn’t give it much thought, not even when the number 100 crawled in his mind. As soon as his eyes fell on the left page his heart fell to his stomach, his sister’s smiling face was looking at him from the page.

The three of them sank in uncomfortable silence, the seconds moving slowly. 

Wells broke the silence, his head popping in from the stairs. He obviously came bearing bad news, judging by the pale color of his face. 

“We can’t find Octavia.”


	23. Damaged

Clarke didn’t volunteer to look for Octavia. 

Bellamy acknowledged that even though his heart was beating rapidly, and every single one of his breaths was more panicked than the previous. As the seconds passed, he couldn’t help but to stop and try to find her in the room. Her ethereal blonde hair was nowhere to be found. 

Wells Jaha’s face was there. 

It had taken Bellamy only a few seconds to react after Wells announced his sister was not in the camp, once he processed the words he jumped right into action and started yelling out orders. The spacewalker was the only person whose presence he had demanded (he hated to admit it, but the boy knew how to track), but he had made it clear that whoever cared about the wellbeing of Octavia was welcome to join the search. 

Clarke wasn’t there, obviously. 

“Let’s go,” he barked as soon as Finn entered the room, causing him to turn on his heels to walk out of the dropship almost as soon as she had gotten inside. “Where do we start?” Bellamy asked as soon as he walked up to Finn, guiding the rest of the search party towards the main gate of their camp. 

“Well, she was here last night before we left to search for you, and it rained last night. As far as I know no one has gone out since we brought the Grounder, so it should be pretty easy to track her. We just need to figure out which exit she used.”

Bellamy stopped right at the gate, looking at Finn quizzically. 

“I just have the feeling your sister is not one to do things conventionally.” Finn shrugged once before walking out of the camp and started walking along the fence. “I don’t think she used the gate.”

Bellamy felt foolish, he should have thought of that. It was  _ his  _ sister, not Finn’s. He should know better. He nodded in silence and followed Finn as they looked for a trail, even when every single cell of his body told him not to walk in circles around the fence, but to run into the woods and cry out his sister’s name. Wasn’t he supposed to know when she was in trouble? Wasn’t he supposed to feel it?  _ Your sister, your responsibility.  _ How had he screwed up so badly? 

 

Once they found a trail Bellamy’s heart started beating faster. The group followed behind him, Finn and Wells. All of their paces were as frantic as his, and even through the panic and disorientation Bellamy couldn’t help but to notice they all seemed to be as worried about Octavia as he was. Of course they were, O was just so damn easy to love.

“It’s weird,” Finn muttered, stopping a few meters in front of Bellamy. 

“What?” He asked, catching up with him.  

“This is too far for a random walk, and it doesn’t look like your sister is running away from anyone. No one is chasing after her.”

“It’s a little too far for exploring, even for Octavia,” Wells chimed, Bellamy had to physically restrain himself from punching him.  _You don't know my sister. None of you do._

“Let’s just keep walking, we have to follow the trail.”  Bellamy started walking again, and the search party followed suit. Finn and Wells walked on both of his sides but he focused on his sister’s steps as he tried to stop his hands from shaking.  _ Your sister, your responsibility.  _ What if he was a little too late?

 

The trail led them to a cave, it was dark and terrifying, but Bellamy didn’t waste his time in hesitation. He stepped inside and kept walking, his arms outstretched so that he wouldn’t bump on the walls. He jumped when he felt a pair of hands on him. 

“Sorry,” Wells apologized in a whisper, letting go of him. “Finn and the others are staying outside. If we don’t come out in ten minutes they are coming too.”

“Don’t expect me to hold hands with you, Gretel,” Bellamy barked, his voice echoed. After a second he started to move further into the cave.

The sound of their heavy boots echoed across the cave for a few seconds, before a very familiar voice drowned the sound. 

“Bell?” 

“Octavia?” Bellamy looked around in the dark, his heart stopping as he tried to decide if he was hallucinating. 

A light flashed at the end of the cave before it turned steady, a fire. And from wherever the fire was lit, Octavia’s figure emerged soon after carrying a torch. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” The two siblings asked at the same time. 

“You disappeared!” Bellamy growled. “You can’t just take off and expect me to sit at the camp and wait for the Grounders to kill you.”

Even in the dim lighting, Bellamy could see her sister rolling her eyes. He allowed himself to crack half a smile, she was there and she was safe. Never in a million years he would have expected Octavia’s answer:

“Grounders are not as bad as you think.”

* * *

 

“O!” Clarke pulled the brunette into a hug as soon as she saw her. 

Octavia returned the hug without thinking about it, for a moment everything seemed to be alright. A second later Clarke’s eyes widened as she noticed Bellamy’s eyes in her field of vision, and she let go of Octavia quickly. He was deliberately looking away, but he couldn't hide the disgust from his face, the sole fact that Clarke was touching his sister made him look sick. 

“... I swear you all worry too much.”

“Octavia knows the Grounder,” Wells explained, giving Clarke an excuse to look away from both the Blake siblings.

“The one that attacked us?”

“Lincoln would never attack you, not without reason.”

“Lincoln?” Clarke asked, feeling like there was an important piece of information that was being left out.

“Octavia knows the Grounder,” Wells repeated. Even so, it didn’t make any sense to Clarke. But Octavia was not about to give her some time to process it. The brunette walked towards the dropship, her steps decided and quick. 

Bellamy followed after his sister, making sure to avoid looking at Clarke. “You coming or what?” He grumbled as he walked past her, without a second thought  Clarke started walking behind them.

* * *

 

Lincoln agreed to stay in camp for a little longer, at least until they could figure out their next move. Clarke and Bellamy agreed to release him of his prisoner condition. He claimed that both the attacks he had directed towards the “skaikru” had been in the best interest of everyone. 

“You were about to enter Mountain Men territory,” he explained. But other than that cryptic comment he didn’t offer any more information. He spoke in short sentences, but he always looked in the eye of the person he was speaking to. Clarke trusted him. 

Bellamy not so much. 

At some point in the conversation, prior to their decision of allowing Lincoln to roam freely around camp, Clarke felt Bellamy’s eyes on her and she turned around to face him. For once there was no hatred in his eyes but a question.  _ What should we do?  _

The ‘we’ got caught in Clarke’s chest, even when he hadn’t said it out loud. Because at some point the delinquents had tacitly chosen them as their leaders, but they couldn’t hold each other’s gaze for more than five minutes at a time.

 

“Clarke, Bellamy?” The two turned around to see Finn, who hesitated in the threshold. They were sitting in the dropship, the room had been cleared for them to speak to Lincoln, not even Octavia was allowed inside. Clarke's heart raced, if Finn had interrupted them there was something serious going on. “There’s something I think you should see.”

They moved in perfect sync, because the urgency in Finn’s voice is not something they could easily overlook. The two leaders rose to their feet and followed him outside, where most of the delinquents were gathered in a messy circle, their faces looking up at the sky. Without asking any questions they looked up too. 

“Are those supplies?” Someone asked, Clarke’s lips parted to offer an answer but it got stuck in her throat. When she looked to her side she saw the lights, almost firework like, reflecting in Bellamy’s eyes before he stormed off. Every single fiber of her being wanted to follow behind him. 

“It’s a funeral,” Finn explains. “This is what a floating looks like from the Ground.”

* * *

 

Life in the Ground settled into an uneasy and peaceful rhythm. Bellamy broke his back for days working on the wall that surrounded the camp, and when that was taken care of he started building small cottages. A dining room for the rainy days, a weapon shed, a smoking house, a kitchen, a medical wing, he had so many plans going on at the same time, and he was an active part of every single one of them. The only thing that didn't quite fit in his plans was sleeping, or spending more than five seconds in the same room Clarke was in. 

Clarke spent most of her time with Lincoln, learning from him about the plants and flowers on the Ground. She knew they were putting off the conversation about what to do with the Grounders, how to address their neighbors. But she couldn't do that conversation herself, she needed Bellamy. 

“Do you miss home?” She asked one day, breaking the silence they usually worked in. 

Lincoln paused as he always did when he was addressed directly by one of the Sky People. Then he spoke calmly, in broken English and looking straight at Clarke’s eyes. “I haven’t had a home in a long time, there is not a place for me to miss. And I have a purpose, and a responsibility to Trikru. It’s in best interest of everyone that your people and mine are okay with each other.”

“Won’t they be angry that we’ve kept you here?”

“I renounced TonDc a long time ago. I will not be missed there, but I should be back soon. Let Heda know you don’t mean any trouble before an attack is planned.”

Clarke nodded and went back to her work. A few minutes later Octavia’s head popped into the medical wing. 

She said in trigedasleng, the Grounders language. Clarke had been trying to learn too, but she was not as good with languages as Octavia was. Lincoln corrected her softly before nodding at Clarke and stepping away, she figured that was what Octavia had asked him to do. 

“Clarke, we have contact,” Octavia burst after a moment. It seemed like even voicing the words was an important task. “We have contact with the Ark. Raven is talking to the Chancellor and you have to come  _ right now.”  _

The run to the upper level of the dropship seemed unreal to Clarke, later that day she wouldn't be able to know if it had been real. S he could only focus on moving her feet quickly enough, climbing the stairs, focusing her eyes on the screen. One step at a time. At some point she simply found herself in the dropship, Raven ushering her towards the screen.

At what point she forgot the fact that her mother was dead, she didn’t know. But when she finally caught her breath and placed the headphones on her ears the image in the screen seemed wrong: it wasn’t her mother wearing the chancellor pin, it wasn’t even Jaha. It was Marcus Kane and everything was wrong. 

“Clarke are you okay?” 

Bellamy’s voice sounded far away, and it took Clarke a second to piece together what he had said. When she finally did, she couldn’t help but acknowledge it was the first time they had talked in weeks, and the first time he asked her if she was okay since they had landed on the Ground. It was the first time it actually sounded like he cared. 

“Where’s Jaha?” She asked at the screen, the words sounded forced in her voice. 

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, we want to hear it.”

“I’m not sure if  _ he  _ should be here.”

“Bellamy stays,” Clarke deadpanned without looking at the freckled boy sitting next to her. 

Kane observed her for a moment, not even bothering to shift his eyes to Bellamy. Clarke didn’t care if he was going to ignore him the whole meeting, she only cared about the fact that he was allowed to stay with her, she simply couldn't stand the idea of doing it alone.

“Your mother was poisoned, Clarke.” Kane swallowed audibly and studied her face for a moment before continuing. “We found evidence in Thelonious Jaha’s quarters that pointed at him as the killer, and we believe that he convinced Bellamy Blake to shoot him as a cover up. Jaha has been imprisoned temporarily until we can get a formal confession from Bellamy.”

“Why would you think something like that?”

“The security tapes of the shooting have been erased, the only way we could trace the shooting back to Bellamy was with DNA tests. And the only way a  _ janitor  _ could have had access to the chancellor's quarters would be if he let him in himself.” The word janitor, and how Kane pronounced it, didn’t escape Clarke’s attention. Wasn't Bellamy a security guard? “Anything to add, Mr. Blake?”

The silence stretched, and Clarke took a shaky breath before forcing herself to look in Bellamy’s direction. His jaw was clenched, his hands were balled into fists and he seemed very unwilling to say a single word. 

“Please tell me you didn’t do it, not like this,” she whispered. 

“I didn’t help plot your mother’s death, Clarke,” he spat. 

“Then tell him what happened!”

“I was offered a spot in the dropship if I killed Jaha, so that’s what I did. Shumway promised me he would get me to come to the Ground with my sister if I took the job. If I was part of a bigger plot then I had no idea, after all I am just a  _ janitor  _ so what the fuck would I know, Princess?!”

Bellamy’s headset yanked away from the radio as he stood up from the makeshift chairs and stormed out of the room. Raven protested, immediately checking on the damage caused to her precious machine, but Bellamy didn’t care. He didn't stop when Clarke called after him, probably wanting him to come back and give more reluctant information to Kane.

He was angry. No, he was furious. Because Clarke was okay with him being a killer, with him shooting Jaha, with him being the cause that three hundred people were now dead, as long as her mom wasn't involved. Because she didn't care about him. Because Clarke had betrayed him and his sister, and she had no problem asking for more and more of him. Because after everything she had done he had no problem doing whatever the hell she wanted. 

“Woah, what happened in there?” Octavia asked running after her brother, trying to get him to stop and talk to her. When that didn’t work she simply matched his pace. “Bellamy what the hell is going on with you? Ever since you came down here you haven’t been yourself… is this about Cl–.”

“Yes!” He roared, stopping dead on his feet and looking into his sister’s eyes, breaking the last promise that he had made to his mother. Because it was his sister, his responsibility, but he couldn’t wait to blame everything on Clarke Griffin. “I loved her Octavia, I trusted her. I told her about you and she sold you in exchange for her freedom. She is the reason why we lost mom, she is the reason why I lost  _ you.”  _

* * *

“I know you all want to see your parents but we are following  _ their  _ schedule, alright? So just stick around and wait for your name to be called.” A few people muttered in disapproval, but overall the crowd seemed to be pleased. Clarke smiled small and stepped to the side, watching the delinquents burst with excitement at the prospect of seeing their parents.

Her smile was quickly erased from her face when a fist appeared in front of her face and she was knocked onto the hard ground. Clarke had flashbacks to the day Lincoln attacked Bellamy in the forest, how she had pushed him away and suddenly the Grounder had been on top of her. Somehow, Octavia was even more terrifying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry it took over a month for me to update, honestly I don't know why it was that hard to write this chapter in particular and I apologize if it isn't as good as the other (or not good at all). But I figured I'd post it because the next chapter is one that I've been wanting to write for a long time. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading it!!   
> I promise to update as soon as I can!!


	24. Clamant

Ironically, it was Lincoln who broke them apart. 

Clarke blinked away the dirt from her eyes, trying to register what had just happened. One second she was allowing herself a breath for the first time in weeks, revelling in satisfaction that communication with the Ark had been established; some of the delinquents even had a conversation with their parents to look forward to. Life was good. The next moment, the wind was being pushed out of her lungs as Octavia knocked her to the ground. 

She repeated a question over and over again, the cries matching her fists. Then, the pain started, Octavia’s punches finally registering. 

People screamed around them, but Clarke couldn’t identify their voices, much less what they were saying. Thinking about that moment in hindsight, she wondered why she hadn’t tried to stop Octavia, why she didn’t attempt to block any of her hits. Maybe, a part of her thought she deserved it, whatever it was.

Lincoln pulled Octavia off her body, and Clarke saw Miller’s face hovering on top of her, calling for help. She lost consciousness after that. But even in the darkness she couldn’t help but to see Bellamy’s face as Octavia’s voice asked her over and over again.  _ How could you?! _

 

She grew used to seeing the bruises on her face, whenever she walked past the mirror-like metal in the dropship, or when she kneeled in the river and she caught a distorted image of her reflection. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to look at her own face that much, not because she cared much for her appearance, but because they were a constant reminder of how much the Blakes hated her.

Even without seeing them, she knew they were still there. No one could take their eyes off them. Especially Bellamy. And every time she caught him staring at her, Clarke could feel Octavia’s fists slamming against her skin, the breath being knocked out of her lungs again. 

“I’m organizing a scouting team. We leave tomorrow,” she announced to him late one night. He was standing guard, and she hoped the darkness was enough to conceal her bruises. 

Whether he could see them or not, Bellamy fixed his eyes on her face before actually meeting her eyes. Her skin tingled. “Why?”

“After you walked out of that meeting, Kane told me about a bunker that is supposed to be nearby. He believes there should be supplies to help us get through winter until they find a way to make their way to the Ground. Things have been calm lately, it seems the right time to go exploring again.”

As usual, Bellamy didn’t seem to be very pleased at the idea of having the rest of the Ark joining them.

“Who are you taking with you?” He asked finally, after a pause.

“Miller, Wells. Maybe Monty. And I was thinking Lincoln would be useful while exploring new territory.”

Bellamy pressed his lips together. “Lincoln shouldn’t leave camp, not yet.”

“I figured you’d say that.” Clarke broke eye contact, trying hard to suppress a sigh. 

Bellamy pursed his lips. “Is the bunker near Grounder territory?”

“Lincoln says we should be clear.”

“Then there is no reason to take him with you.” His voice had a touch of finality to it, and Clarke knew there was no point discussing with him. “Also, that is too big of a group. Especially for a first time excursion, if what you find is worth it we can send a bigger group to bring back the supplies.” Bellamy swallowed, looking away. “Monty should stay, and watch the radio with Raven. And if you leave, Wells should stay.”

“When did you and Wells become best friends?” She snorted, facing him again.

The fire in his eyes was visible even when he wasn’t looking directly at her. The apology got caught in her throat. 

“I reckon Kane would rather talk to him than me.”

Clarke nodded, tearing her eyes off him and watching the silent camp. “Miller and I, then. We’ll go together.”

For a few moments the two of them watched the camp in comfortable silence. The fence circled the delinquents, protecting them from outside threats, and throughout the camp not a single sound was heard. Their people slept peacefully. Clarke wondered if he was thinking about the same thing. 

_ We did this, together,  _ she wanted to say. But before she could begin gathering the strength to say so, he interrupted her thoughts. 

“We leave at dawn. If there is a bunker with supplies I want to see where it is. Make sure Miller knows he is in charge of the camp while we are gone.” Bellamy waited for a single second, making sure she registered his words before walking away. 

Clarke blinked a few times, her eyes focused on the darkness that had swallowed Bellamy. Of course when the need for more supplies arose, she thought of Bellamy right away, of course he needed to go with her, he was as much leader of the Sky People as she was. They had both being dragged to the front by unknown forces, and she knew quite well she couldn’t do it without him. 

But she wasn’t about to ask him on a long trek alone with her. 

As he started to weed out people from her original group, she figured he’d eventually suggest himself and Murphy to tag along. The last thing she had expected was to end up looking forward to a day trip with him. They could barely keep eye contact for a few seconds, much less spend the day together, just the two of them.

She kicked a pebble lightly before turning around and walking towards Miller and Wells’ tent. Clarke hesitated outside for a moment before asking quietly if she could step in. 

“Since when do you knock?” Miller huffed sarcastically from inside, and she cracked a small smile as she entered the tent. The smile died off as soon as she noticed that they had both been busy packing for the excursion the next day. 

“At ease, soldiers,” she joked weakly, making her way to Miller’s bed and sitting down, crossing her legs. “Bellamy changed the plans for tomorrow,” she clarified after a heartbeat. 

Both the boys stopped what they were doing at the same time, it would have been comical if Clarke didn’t feel like she was about to throw up. 

“What do you mean he changed the plans? He can’t do that, we need the supplies for the winter!” Wells took a step towards her as he spoke before looking at the entrance to their tent. He looked ready to march to Bellamy’s and give him a piece of his mind, and for a second Clarke considered letting him do it. 

Miller, of course, read her too well to let her off the hook the easy way. “He’s going to the bunker himself, isn’t he?” Clarke nodded. 

“He made a good case, I couldn’t argue against that logic.”

“Or maybe you didn’t  _ want  _ to,” Miller sighed, sitting next to her on his bed. “Why didn’t you fight h––”

“How could you let him get away with this Clarke?” Wells interrupted, he had always been the most impulsive one in the friend group, and he had trouble keeping his thoughts to himself. Clarke knew Miller was just as disgusted with the situation as Wells was, but only the later allowed himself to be vocal about it.  “You saw what happened with him and Raven’s radio. For all we know he will set the bunker on fire. You can’t trust him. I can’t believe you let him talk you into letting him go alone.”

“I didn’t! Alright?!” She snapped, jumping off the cot. “He told me the search party I had assembled was too big, and he was right. We shouldn’t risk that many people. And Monty should stay here in case the radio needs repairs or something. Miller should stay to watch over camp, and if I’m leaving then you should be here to speak to Kane. Goodness knows he won’t speak to anyone else.”

“Wait,” Miller paused after letting out that word. “You are going with him?” 

Clarke wanted to scoff. O _ f course I’m going with him. I have the coordinates, I am in charge. We need the supplies and I am getting them whatever it takes,  _ she wanted to say.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. 

Because she was going to be alone with Bellamy Blake, and she wasn’t prepared for that. Not at all. 

“Clarke?” Miller’s voice sounded far away. And when Wells echoed his question, so did his. 

Her fingers got tangled in her blonde hair, and Clarke realized that she was pulling it. Before she could fully register what was going on, she found herself down on her knees, her body being shook by her sobs as her two best friends did their best to comfort her. 

* * *

“What the hell is going on?” Miller asked as soon as Clarke calmed down. “What is happening between you and Bellamy?”

“He was my guard when I was in solitary,” Clarke said after a long pause. The words sounded foreign, even when it was the second time she was saying them out loud. She didn’t know if Miller had shared that piece of information with Wells, but it felt important to say it.  

“I know it sounds stupid, but he was the only reason I didn’t go completely insane in there. He broke the rules multiple times, he brought me art supplies, and books. Even chocolate one time.”

Miller’s hand had been drawing reassuring circles on her back, and as she stopped talking she realized his hand had frozen. 

“I begged a million times for that job,” he confessed after a pause. Clarke and Wells turned their heads to face Miller, who had a sad smile on his face. “My father wouldn’t let me near you. The time I tried to sneak into the solitary cells my ID bounced and my dad gave me the deadliest look ever. I guess he didn’t want me asking you about your dad…”

Clarke nodded, sighing. “He didn’t know I had already told you about the oxygen shortage, he was probably afraid I would talk you into going public.”

 

Wells looked away and Clarke reached for his hand after a moment. Sometimes it took her off guard to think about life continuing when she had been in solitary. Outside the four walls, across that thick metal door life continued somewhere. And it wasn’t just Bellamy, telling her stories about Octavia. It was Wells, selflessly allowing his two best friends to hate him to spare her from unnecessary pain. It was Miller, continuing by himself the job she had started, stealing supplies to distribute to the poor. It was her mother, planning to send a hundred unsupervised children to the Ground, possibly to their death. The world hadn’t stopped the second she had been thrown into her cell, and she often forgot to think about that. 

Slowly, Well’s fingers intertwined with hers and Miller’s hand reassumed its circular rubbing. Clarke took it as a cue to continue talking. 

“He told me about his sister, Octavia, that’s how I knew about her. And we became friends, I would write her letters and Bellamy would deliver them to her. I fell in love with him.”

The last words came out rushed, as if she was forcing herself to say them before she changed her mind. None of her friends’ faces changed, causing hers to fall. 

“Am I that obvious?”

“You are to us,” Wells teased, making her blush. “Is that why you asked me to volunteer to look for Octavia?” 

Clarke nodded, blushing deeper. “I knew he wouldn’t want me there, but I knew we had to find her.” She sighed. “I told him I loved him, and he didn’t reply. He just walked away, and he never came back. Maybe he just realized what his true feelings for me were. I am a Phoenix girl, I represent everything he despises. I was the Chancellor’s daughter, because of people like me his mother got floated and Octavia ended in the Sky Box… I just wish I knew what kickstarted this hatred.” 

_ It was probably my love confession _ , she thought to herself before sighing.  _ I disgust him that much.  _

One thing she had always appreciated about her friends was their honesty, they never bothered saying ‘it will be okay’ unless they were absolutely certain. When the silence stretched, Clarke realized both the boys were as concerned about the next day as she was, but they didn’t try to give her false hope, and they didn’t care to pretend everything would be sunshine and rainbows. Instead, they did what they always did: they made everything better.

“Well, if you are going out with him tomorrow you should have a good night of sleep then. And by ‘good night’, I mean,  _ not _ in the med bay. Those cots are uncomfortable as hell,” Wells snickered. Clarke barked a laugh. 

“And we know for a fact you probably don’t have a single blanket or pillow on your tent,” Miller continued. “So you get to choose: which charming gentleman will get to share a bed with you tonight?”

Without a cue, both Wells and Miller struck a pose.

“Wells kicks at night,” she stated after laughing, a good portion of the weight she had been carrying disappeared from her shoulders. 

As Clarke closed her eyes, nuzzled against Miller’s familiar side, the day ahead of her didn’t look quite that terrifying. In fact, if she closed her eyes she could even pretend to be in her old quarters, dozing next to her best friends as they watched old Ground films. In other words, she felt safe.

* * *

The sun peeked from behind the cracks in the treetops, and Bellamy finally looked away from the morning sky. He had been waiting to hear the fussing from Clarke’s tent, he had been readying himself to see her again. All night long he had tortured himself with the day to come, wondering if he had made the right decision by asking her to come with him. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it had been because he was positive Clarke wouldn’t let him go alone after the radio fiasco, or because he wouldn’t let her go by herself. Or maybe he just wanted to be with her.

He might have hated her, but it was impossible to shake her off for good. 

Even when sometimes he was not at all sure that he knew Clarke in the slightest, it didn’t seem like her to be late. As the sun completely emerged from the horizon, Bellamy identified the strangling feeling on his chest as worry. His heavy steps took him to her tent, and he stepped in after calling out her name three times without an answer. 

His eyes swept across the empty tent, he took note of the carefully arranged medical supplies that took over the limited space. Somehow, he had always imagined her tent to be warm, comfortable and borderline luxurious. But the tent was smaller than his was, and the cot was devoid of any blankets or lushness. His heart stammered, suddenly remembering the nights he had spent awake thinking about her in the claustrophobic cell. 

She had obviously not slept in the tent, she had probably not been sleeping in the tent for a while. With a speeding heart he rushed towards the medical bay, if he remembered correctly there was no one currently sleeping in there, but it seemed like a Clarke thing to do to sleep there in case anyone would need her. 

The medical bay was empty as well. 

Before he could think about what he was doing, he was barging inside of the tent Wells and Miller shared. 

“Clarke is miss––” The wind was knocked out of his chest as he realized he had woken up not two but three people, and the girl he had desperately been looking for was now staring at him from Miller’s bed. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were wide. His arm was still wrapped around her back. 

After a long second, Bellamy managed to clear his throat. “Clarke,” he said, his eyes growing colder by the second. “I leave in five minutes, with or without you.”

As he exited the tent he realized his ultimatum wasn’t as powerful as he had originally thought, Clarke was the one that had the coordinates to the resources. Like always, he needed her. 

And she was in another man’s bed. 

 

Less than five minutes later, after a few hushed conversations that he couldn’t quite catch, Clarke emerged from the tent. A heartbeat later, Miller came out behind her. Bellamy’s fists clenched and his stomach twisted as his eyes locked with the other man’s.

“I’m sorry Bellamy, I can’t believe I oversl––” She began.

“I believe your guard shift began fifteen minutes ago,” he snapped at Miller, interrupting Clarke sharply. The look he shot back at him did nothing but fuel Bellamy’s anger. Miller seemed utterly uninterested in having a discussion, whereas Bellamy was ready to punch him in the face at the slightest invitation. 

Such invitation did come, before Bellamy could think of something else to say, Miller was pulling Clarke into a short hug. One that she returned automatically. He balled his hands into fists. 

“Take care of the camp,” she reminded him. 

“Take care of yourself.”

“May we meet again,” Clarke murmured as she stepped away from him, Miller’s voice echoing hers almost simultaneously. 

Bellamy tore his eyes from the scene as if he had just witnessed a murder, or at least that’s how he felt: nauseated and shook. He turned around without giving Clarke a single glance and he started walking towards the camp’s exit. 

* * *

The silence in the woods was deafening. Clarke purposely stepped on dry leaves and branches to try and alleviate the dense silence that had been surrounding the two leaders since they had left camp. She knew that she had made a huge mistake by oversleeping, but she didn’t understand why Bellamy seemed to be taking it so personally.

She should have known. After all, he hated her. And every single mistake, no matter how small, didn’t help her win his favor. 

The map crunched as she unfolded it, her eyes searching the light trail she had marked with a pencil. 

“We should get there any minute now,” she announced, looking up from the map to catch Bellamy’s nod. But he didn’t look at her. He hadn’t laid eyes on her since he had barged into the boys’ tent. 

As she had predicted, the ruins soon appeared before them, and the pair split silently to find an entrance to the bunker. Clarke had no idea what exactly she was looking for, but Bellamy apparently did, because after a few minutes he called her name. 

He didn’t look up when she walked up to him, but she knew Bellamy was aware of her presence as he stared at the vault-like entrance that he has just found. He placed his big hands on the door, and Clarke took it as a cue to help him open it. The metal was rusty, and the door was heavy. But together they managed to open it. 

The aid depot was apparently abandoned, yet the empty containers made it obvious that someone had been there before them. 

Unwilling to give up, Clarke stepped away from Bellamy, venturing into the darker corners of the bunker in search for something, anything to bring back to the camp. 

“Face it, Clarke,” Bellamy said after a while, he sounded exhausted and angry. “There’s nothing here. I know you were dying to go back with your arms full, and tell the Ark what a good princess of the ground you are.”

“Shut up Bellamy,” she snapped, turning around to face him. For the first time since that morning, their eyes landed on each other’s. And her eyes were flaming. “We need the resources, you know that. And the Ark is not coming down soon enough for us to be able to lay back and wait to be saved.”

Her voice was cold, just like his eyes. Clarke couldn’t handle it, so she turned around and continued to search for supplies. 

“Maybe the Ark shouldn’t come at all,” he muttered after a while. 

“Let’s let them all die up there, right?” She hissed without missing a beat. “We are already three hundred down, so what’s a few thousand more, right Bellamy?”

Deep down, she knew that she had crossed the line. But ever since they had landed on the Ground, Bellamy had been nothing but angry at her, and it was kind of reassuring to finally respond to that anger. 

Silence fell over them again, but this time it was charged with electricity. The two of them continued their search across the bunker, and after a long time Clarke was rewarded with a large number of blankets inside of a box. 

The shriek of joy she let out would have been adorable, if Bellamy didn’t hate her at the moment. 

“There should be enough for everyone to have at least one blanket now. There might even be enough to make some bandages...” she mused, not looking around, not even when he walked up behind her. She was too focused on the blankets and the opportunities they brought. 

“Does that mean you’ll finally sleep on your own tent?” He grumbled.

“I sleep in the med bay in case anyone needs me,” she deadpanned, trying to be as civil as possible. But she couldn’t help the annoyance in her voice. The happiness and hope the blankets had brought were now gone. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he snickered. 

“Then what the hell did you mean, Bellamy?”

“I meant that you might want consider giving Wells your old tent, it must be uncomfortable for the poor guy to lay there while you and Miller go to town.”

Much to his surprise, Clarke let out a laugh that echoed across the empty bunker. A shiver went down Bellamy’s spine, he hadn’t heard that sound in a while 

“You think I’m  _ sleeping _ with Miller?” After two seconds of silence she continued, the humor still audible in her voice. “He is gay, Bellamy. He has been trying to get into Monty’s pants since year nine!”

The silence continued to stretch, but when Clarke finally turned around to ask him why the hell he cared about who she slept with, he wasn’t there anymore. 

“Bellamy?”

Her heart stuttered in her chest, suddenly brought back to the day she had confessed her feelings, just to spend days and weeks listening to the silence in search for an answer. The aid depot was quiet and empty, Clarke opened her mouth to call his name again, but no sound came out. 

Somehow she doubted he had stormed out because of the argument, that was not what Bellamy Blake was like. He was the kind of person to stick around and argue until his voice went hoarse and he could claim a victory. He was the kind of person that fights back. 

At that moment she finally heard something, a loud metallic thump, followed by a watery sound and groans. It sounded like a fight. 

Before her brain fully processed the situation, Clarke found herself running towards the noises. Finally, she entered a section of the depot she had not seen before. Against a fallen metallic barrel, Dax seemed to be choking Bellamy with his arm. Surrounding them there were at least a dozen of guns and what seemed to be grease. Her horrified shriek caused both the boys to look up, Bellamy’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his face, and he mouthed something she couldn’t quite get. 

Without thinking about it, she took Dax’s shook at seeing her and lurged at him, tackling him into the ground and causing him to let go of Bellamy. Bellamy’s gasps filled the room as she rolled around with Dax, struggling to keep him away from her co-leader. 

“Stay out of it, blondie _ , _ ” Dax groaned, slamming her against the floor. As her head hit the concrete she feared she was going to lose consciousness, but before anything happened a loud noise she didn’t fully recognize was heard, and Dax collapsed next to her, a bullet hole on his head. 

Clarke looked up, her eyes wide as she joined the dots. Dax’s oozing wound, the gunshot, and Bellamy’s trembling hand still pushing the trigger. 

 

She knew Dax didn’t deserve a proper burial, and there was nothing Clarke wanted more than to run back to camp and burn the clothes that were now stained with the delinquent’s blood. But she also knew the aid depot could come in handy at some point, and they could not let the body rot there. 

“We could use the blankets to transport the weapons,” Bellamy suggested once they were done burying Dax. Without waiting for an answer he turned around and walked towards the bunker. 

“What?!” She let out, it was the first time she had spoken since Bellamy had disappeared from behind her. After he had shot Dax he hadn’t bothered to ask if she was okay, so she hadn’t offered an answer. “Someone just fucking tried to kill you and you still want to bring the guns to the camp?!” 

Bellamy stopped dead on his tracks, turning around. Clarke caught up with him, the trees now shielding Dax’s grave from her view.

“With these guns we might finally have a chance to protect ourselves against the Grounders, Clarke. We need them.” It was obvious he was trying hard to keep his voice calm. 

“How do you know we won’t cause more problems by bringing them in? We should wait until the Ark comes to decide what to do with them. Don’t forget those kids ar––”

“We are all criminals in the Ground!” He snapped, interrupting her. “Even you, princess, so save up your judgement.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She roared. “I’m trying, Bellamy. I’m doing what I can to take care of everyone, but you are always acting as if I was trying to get you all killed. I just saved you, didn’t I?”

His eyes burned, and Clarke felt truly scared of him for the first time in her life. Bellamy’s eyes looked just like Octavia’s when she had jumped over her.

“You keep ‘saving me’, Clarke but you let me kill them. You ‘saved me’ from Lincoln, you ‘saved me’ from Dax.” He drew air quotes with his hands, his voice trembling with anger. And then he exploded. “Yet you could have saved me from myself and you didn’t! You let me kill them, Clarke! You knew about the people they were going to kill if the 100 project failed, didn’t you? You knew how bad the oxygen shortage was and you didn’t say anything! You let me kill them! It’s your fault I am a killer.”

“I’m sorry!” Clarke burst out, her heart shattering as she realized the burden in her chest for the three hundred people that had died was multiplied in his. “The only reason I didn’t tell you is because I thought you wouldn’t listen,” she stammered. 

“I can’t believe you have the fucking nerve to say that Clarke. After everything I sacrificed for you, after everything I lost because of you,” Bellamy roared. A tear slid down her cheek but he didn’t look away from her eyes. When he spoke again his voice trembled with hatred, but it was much quieter. “It doesn’t matter how many times you put yourself between me and death, or a grounder, or a bullet. I will never forgive you for what you did.”

“But what did I do?!” Bellamy’s face made it obvious that she should know plenty well what she had done. “I don’t understand Bellamy. It was all perfect one instant and then you disappeared when I finally gathered the courage to tell you I loved you. You disappeared on me! And when we got here you avoided me like the plague, and this was way before Raven got to the ground with her radio.”

There was a moment of heated silence as he tried to process her words. 

“You told me you lo–– then why, why would you give away Octavia?” His voice was hopeless, Bellamy sounded as if someone had just knocked out all the air from his lungs. 

The fire in her chest ignited as soon as his sister’s name fell off his lips, making her bruises tingle. “Is this what it’s all about? You think I gave you away? Why would I do that?! To get out of the Box? You honestly think I would have chosen my freedom over your sister? Over you?”

It all made sense suddenly, and at the same time, nothing made sense anymore. 

What did make sense was pulling her close to him, the breath sucked off her lungs as he clutched her arms for dear life. “You loved me? You said you loved me?”

“Of course I do, you asshole.” Clarke was still crying, her voice trembling as she readied herself to be laughed at. His hands tightened around her arms, probably leaving his own marks as well “And you never bothered to reply. You never came bac––”

“I love you,” he proclaimed, the words echoing in the woods. “I don’t know when you said it, I don’t know why I didn’t hear it, but I love you, Clarke. And I felt so stupid for loving you despite you having given Octavia away but now I know you didn’t. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

And with apologies pouring from both of their mouths they clashed into a kiss. Their hands clenching into each other’s hair as if to reassure themselves it was real, as it to make sure that the other wouldn’t disappear into thin air. 

And, in that moment, it all made sense. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me this long to write this chapter!! I am so sorry I made you all wait for this long, I had written this a long time ago but I couldn't stop tinkering with it. I just wanted it to be perfect because I've made this two so miserable they deserved a happy moment.  
> I hope you all like it!!! I will try to finish this fic before the year ends <3


	25. Blooming

As soon as they entered the camp they were received with a harsh reality: the world hadn’t stopped while they were away. Even when they had decided to cut their catching up session short in order to return to camp before anyone worried too much, they realized that they had been gone for too long. 

“Kane keeps calling, and he wants to talk to you. He wants the coordinates for the landing of the Ark,” Wells said as soon as the pair entered the dropship. They had been quickly ushered inside, where Octavia, Lincoln, Wells and Miller were waiting. “But that can wait.”

Bellamy, who had stiffened at the mention of the Ark, frowned. “What is more important than that?”

Wells fixed his eyes on Bellamy’s before facing Clarke again, she wasn’t sure if he had noticed the change in the dynamics between her and Bellamy, but it was obviously not the time nor the place for her to bring it up. 

Wells swallowed hard, turning around to face Lincoln who took a step forward. “We received a message today, from the leader of my unit. She wishes to speak to you both. No arms, no guards. I believe it would be wise to attempt to negotiate a truce.”

Bellamy scoffed, causing Clarke to stiffen. 

“A truce? Do you think we will fall for that? Why would the Grounders be interested in establishing a truce with us?”

“Skaikru is not the enemy,” Lincoln explained without losing his temper. He was well aware that Bellamy didn’t trust him, so, even when he was addressing both the leaders, he kept his kind eyes fixed on Bellamy the whole time. Clarke didn’t need convincing. “The first time I caused you harm it was to prevent you from stepping in Mountain Men territory, I knew your arrival from the sky would lure them outside. I wanted to keep you out of there while Heda came up with a solution to your situation, and I thought it would be best to be hostile. Apparently Heda has made her decision, and she thinks allying with the skaikru is the best choice, so she has sent Anya to negotiate the terms of the truce.”

“What are the Mountain Men?” Clarke asked. She remembered Lincoln justifying his attacks before, but he had never gone into detail. “Do they pose a threat to us too?”

“Even before your people fell from the sky we weren’t alone,” Lincoln said after a moment. He was obviously uncomfortable because of the sudden protagonism he was experiencing, but he continued his explanation. “The Mountain Men locked themselves in Mount Weather when the bombs started to fall, they have lived inside the mountain ever since. Unlike the clans, they cannot survive outside, and they have tried to find ways to process the radiation the way we do. Their methods are invasive and dangerous. They have killed thousands of our people, and I have no doubt they would rather take yours. Your people have been absorbing radiation from the stars for generations, your blood is more valuable than ours now.”

“Our blood?”

“They drain out the blood from the Grounders,” Octavia explained. It was obvious Lincoln was uncomfortable enough, so he stepped back to allow her to speak. “And they pump it into theirs, trying to train their blood to absorb radiation better.”

Clarke’s stomach turned, she felt the sudden need to reach for Bellamy’s hand, but she held herself back. 

“Lincoln is right, we should ally with the Grounders. I know you are counting on the Ark coming down to save our asses,” she hissed at Clarke. “But the truth is that we don’t know this place,  _ they  _ do. They know how to fight the Mountain Men, they just need our technology. This is the only way to make this planet a safe place for all of us.”

The room was charged. Lincoln was tense, attempting to work as a bridge between the two groups. Wells and Miller were obviously worried, and Octavia was desperately trying to be heard. 

“We’ll meet with her,” Bellamy said after a long pause, his eyes fluttering to Clarke’s. “I am not saying there will be an alliance, but we’ll listen to what she has to say.” 

She nodded once he finished talking, her eyes locked with his. After a moment, she reluctantly looked away, ready to give orders.

“Lincoln and Octavia, make this meeting happen today. Wells, call Kane and tell him I will meet with him later tonight. Don’t give him any coordinates yet. Miller, get Monty and find a way to store the guns Bellamy and I found, make sure there is limited access to them.”

Soon, everyone scattered outside, leaving her with Bellamy. 

“Any orders for me?” He raised an eyebrow, amused. Even so, she could see the worry in his eyes. 

“Actually, yes.” She smiled, stepping forward so that she could reach for his hands, he gladly took hers with his. “Trust Lincoln, please.”

Bellamy sighed. “He attacked you once.”

Clarke gave him a small smile, the puzzle pieces of Bellamy Blake slowly taking their place.

“He was trying to protect his people, that’s exactly what we are trying to do.”

“I am not promising you that I will walk out of that meeting being best friends forever with the Grounder leader,” he stated. “But if truce is what they want, and their terms are decent, then I can work with that.”

Clarke nodded, giving him a small smile before pecking his lips. Bellamy perked up immediately. 

“I can work with that too.”

* * *

 

“Clarke, princess of the Skaikru?” The Grounder leader asked as they approached her, stopping at the middle of the bridge. “And Bellamy, warrior king of the Skaikru?” 

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure those were the titles she would have chosen for themselves, but she nodded. “We are Clarke and Bellamy, leaders of the skaikru.”

The word  _ skaikru  _ sounded both familiar and foreign, but she didn’t have much time to think of it. Anya, that’s how Lincoln had called her, hopped down from the horse she was riding in one swift movement and started walking towards them. 

“I assume you have come here alone. No weapons, no guards.”

Bellamy nodded. “We are alone,” he confirmed, raising both his palms. Clarke hoped Anya wouldn’t mind the slight sarcasm on his tone. 

“I have been told that we are to expect more of you to come down from the stars,” she said in a monotone voice, her eyes alternating between both their faces. “Will they pose a menace to the trikru?”

“No,” Clarke stated, now determined to make it come true. “My mother was the former chancellor, they listen to me. If we have a peace treaty ready when they come back, there should be no reason to fear. Besides, we understand the real threat is the Mountain.”

Anya pursed her lips, before giving her a nod. “There are innocent people inside the Mountain, children. It is their leaders who are cruel, and we cannot compete with their technology. The skaikru can.”

“What are your terms then?” Bellamy went straight to the point, and Clarke wondered if Anya could see past his strong exterior. If she could tell he had the best interest of his people at heart. She hoped so. 

“Heda Lexa, the Commander of the 12 Clans, has offered the skaikru to become the thirteenth clan. If you choose to accept this condition, you will live in peace amongst us, and the protection of the Commander will fall on you too. In exchange, we ask you put your technology at our disposition, help us disarm Mount Weather. We ask you to be a true addition to the Kongeda, the Coalition. The way we will protect you, you must protect us.”

Clarke looked away from Anya, only to find Bellamy was already looking at her. She knew it was a long shot, that the Ark might not agree and they would have to fight hard in order to have them cooperate with the Grounders. But she also knew that saying no meant they wouldn’t live to see the Ark come down. The Sky People would be erased from history forever. 

“If you need time to think about Heda’s offer…” Anya started, but she stopped when Bellamy looked away from Clarke’s eyes to face her again. 

“We don’t need any more time. We accept the terms of the alliance.”

Clarke gasped softly, forcing herself to recompose quickly as she faced Anya again. Anya took her time evaluating their words, before nodding. She walked up to them and offered her hand to seal the deal. 

“Remember,” she said once she was up on her horse again. “ _ Oso throu daun ogeda _ , we fight together.” Bellamy and Clarke nodded, but before any of them could say anything Anya spoke again. “You said your people listens to you, Clarke of skaikru. For your own good, I hope this is true, or the weight of the broken alliance will be burdened by you.”

* * *

 

“We have contact with the Ark,” Raven said as she popped her head inside the upper level of the dropship. Clarke tried not to blush when Raven arched her eyebrow at her hands, which were intertwined with Bellamy’s. 

“We’ll be right there,” she said gratefully, sighing when she went back downstairs. 

“We?” Bellamy asked, raising an eyebrow of his own as they stood up together. “Last time I spoke to Kane he made it clear I was not welcomed into his politics.”

“Kane may be the chancellor, but  _ we _ are in charge, Bellamy. And it is time we tell him that.” 

Bellamy smiled, and her chest caught fire a little bit, but instead of giving in to their selfish desires they made their way downstairs, sitting down in front of the screen, where Kane seemed less than pleased. Clarke could only guess how angry he was, she had made him wait for the coordinates, and Bellamy was back on her side. 

“Clarke,” he greeted sourly. Clarke nodded. “Wells said you had news for us.”

“Yes, the reason we had to postpone this meeting is because we went to talk to one of the Grounder leaders. Apparently, there are twelve clans of them, all allied against a common enemy, they believe this enemy may pose a threat to us too, so they have proposed we join them.”

“The Grounders? The same people that speared one of you?” The skepticism was clear in Kane’s voice, and Clarke sat up, trying hard not to look like a teenager. 

“Yes,” she said. “I know it’s hard to believe, but they have acted in our best interest. They want to protect their people, and so do we. That is why we have accepted their offer.”

“What?!” Kane’s rage was palpable, even when he was so far away. “Without consulting the Council?!”  

Clarke stiffened, suddenly feeling like a child being scolded.

“The decision had to be made in the moment, or we would have been dead before you even had a chance to come back down,” Bellamy interfered for the first time, it didn’t help. 

“What is he even doing there, Clarke? He aided in your mother’s assassination, you should have floa––  _ executed  _ him, make an example. Or the people won’t listen.”

This time it was Bellamy who stiffened, and Clarke intervened, her resolve to protect him strengthening. 

“Our people  _ do  _ listen to us, Chancellor. We have successfully established a colony, even when we were never intended to. You sent a hundred unarmed children into the Ground and called us expendable, but we are not. We have made a peace alliance with the Grounders, and if you want the safe coordinates for landing you will accept the alliance, along with our other terms.”

Kane was obviously surprised, but after a pause he seemed to be agreeing to them already. “What terms?”

“All the hundred’s crimes were pardoned, we ask Bellamy’s to be too. He only shot Jaha to protect his sister, because Shumway told him to.”

“We will also be part of the Council, Clarke and I.” Bellamy stated, his strength recovered. Under the table, where Kane couldn’t see, he reached for her hand. 

There was a long pause, both the young leaders were painfully aware of their racing heartbeats as they waited for Kane’s decision. The decision came with a sigh. 

“The Council pardons Bellamy Blake of his previous crimes. And we offer him, and Clarke Griffin positions in the new Council of the Ground.”

“We accept,” they said in unison, causing Kane to sigh again. 

“We will begin preparation to land as soon as you send us those coordinates, we will also apprehend and trial Shumway.”

“ _ What?”  _ Clarke hissed. “It’s been at least a week since he told you it was Shumway who told him to shoot Jaha. Why hasn’t he been floated? How can he still be free?” 

Bellamy squeezed her hand, a silent plea for her to calm down. 

“Back then it was a janitor’s word against a general’s, but now things have changed.”

“May I ask for a favor, sir?”

Kane was visibly tired, but he still looked at Bellamy as if to invite him to go on. 

“Can Shumways’ trial take place at the Ground? He could be the example for our people.”

Kane nodded, and Clarke looked behind her gesturing to Raven. Raven nodded and approached the machine that only her and Monty could understand. 

“The coordinates are being transmitted right now,” she told her. On the screen, Kane nodded as he received them. 

“Safe passage on your travels until our final journey on the ground,” Clarke began. 

“May we meet again,” Kane finished as the transmission ended. 

Both the young leaders sighed in relief as Kane’s image disappeared from the screen, and when they looked around they found Miller, Wells and Raven staring intently at their joined hands. Before either of them could have a chance to blush or explain, Raven smirked. 

“Get a fucking room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is kind of short (in comparison) but I promise a longer last chapter, along with the fluff we've all been waiting for. Thank you for reading!!!


	26. Ahead

“Clarke?” Octavia’s voice was tentative, and so were her steps as she entered the med bay. “Raven said you were looking for me?”

Clarke nodded, letting go of the supplies that she was fixing for the uptenth time. She looked up and she found Octavia looking at her apologetically, flinching when her bruises were visible. 

“Yeah, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind going with Lincoln to talk to Anya. We have lost communication with the Ark, but if everything goes well we are to expect their landing tomorrow. I just wanted them to be notified, and to know the coordinates of the landing.”

Octavia was visibly surprised, but she gave Clarke a nod nevertheless. 

“Don’t worry about your brother, he knows and he has reluctantly accepted to let you go.”

“Clarke I am… I am so sorry about what I did. I didn’t know, and now Bellamy told me and I am so sorry.”

Clarke knew that it was hard for Octavia of all people to say she was sorry, but she was glad to hear that they were on good standing again. 

“I know, O. It’s okay, it has all been a big, horrible misunderstanding. It’s not your fault.”

 

When Octavia walked out of the medical bay, several minutes later, she had a huge smile on her face. Clarke had been her first and only friend until they reached the Ground, and she was glad to have her back.

* * *

 

Bellamy stared at the two walking figures until he couldn’t see them anymore, with a sigh he gave the order for the doors to close. People scattered but he remained there, as if he could protect Octavia just by standing as close to her as he could without leaving camp. 

“Lincoln will protect her, you know that. Not that she needs protecting.”

Bellamy didn’t jump when her voice was heard, somehow he knew she would be there. He smiled before looking around, his eyes landing on Clarke’s. 

“That is exactly what I am worried about.”

“She will always need you, though. You are her brother.”

“You seem awfully savvy on the subject, princess.” The second his words left his lips he regretted them, Bellamy had spent many weeks exploiting Clarke’s weaknesses, and for a split second he had forgotten he didn’t have to do it anymore. Either way, her kind eyes didn’t shift.

“Miller and Wells, they might not be blood related to me. But we are still siblings. Remember that the next time you burst into one of our sleepovers.”

Bellamy blushed, but he laughed anyway, relieved. Clarke walked toward him and reached for his hand, his was already ready to hold her. It was very different to all those times they had held hands through the small opening of her prison door; her hand didn’t tremble this time, and there was nothing setting them apart anymore. 

Together they watched over camp, the delinquents moved with a leisure pace now, there was not much to do until the Ark came down, so they were all instructed to take the day off. There had been mixed reactions to the alliance with the Grounders, but overall everyone seemed to be ready to do as they were told. As Clarke had said, their people listened to them. 

“Are you sure Kane will keep his word?” Bellamy asked softly. 

“I will not let them float you, Bell. You are innocent.”

His smile was kind when she looked up at him, her eyes fierce. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, princess, but that is not what I meant.” Bellamy used his free hand to push her hair out of her face. “You heard Anya, she said  _ you  _ would burden the weight of the Ark’s decisions. Are you sure that he will respect the peace treaty?”

The same fierceness was in his eyes, Bellamy seemed ready to protect her against anything. For a split second, Clarke allowed herself to be afraid. She had given the situation some thought as well, and she was definitely not looking forward to whatever punishment the Grounders had in mind just in case Kane was tricking them. 

“I doubt he would dare break his word, I don’t think he is very popular right now. He was the one that came up with the 100 project, and as far as I know the parents were unhappy. If he came down and decided to impose himself I doubt people would follow him, he needs us.”

Bellamy nodded, having read the fear in her eyes he tightened his hold on her hand, and she returned the squeeze. In unison they looked up to the sky, somewhere above them the Ark was getting ready to make its final descent. 

The only thing left to do was to get ready for their arrival, together.

* * *

 

The Ark came down as predicted, the Earth shook and Clarke opened her eyes when she felt it. Next to her, Bellamy jolted awake too. In the end, she had decided against sleeping on her own tent, in the interest of saving blankets, of course. 

“They are here,” she whispered unnecessarily, and Bellamy nodded. He kissed her hair softly before stepping out of the bed, she followed soon after. 

Outside the tents, the delinquents were slowly waking each other up, pointing at the trail of smoke that revealed the Ark’s position. Dawn was rapidly approaching, and Clarke knew there was no point on asking everyone to go back to sleep. 

“We have to go meet them,” she told Bellamy, sliding on her jacket. 

“Get the search party ready, princess. But make sure to leave someone in charge. I’m going to go get the guns.”

Deep inside, Clarke knew the guns weren’t necessary. They were at truce with the Grounders, and the Ark shouldn’t pose a threat. But if it made Bellamy feel safer, then so be it. She looked behind her to find her friends looking at her, obviously awaiting orders. She knew any of them would stay behind to take care of camp, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask them. Monty, Miller, Jasper, Wells… they all had parents that they had missed, parents they were looking forward to see again. 

“Finn and I can stay,” Raven said after a moment, putting her out of her misery. “There’s no one there we are desperate to see, you know? We’ll take care of camp.”

Clarke nodded, thanking her with a weak smile. Raven gave her back a nod before disappearing into her tent, Finn slept like a log, and he probably wasn’t aware of what was going on. 

“We leave in ten, be at the gate as soon as you can.”

 

The walk to the Ark wasn’t long, Clarke had planned it that way. Now, with the Ark’s giant structure, they had a way of marking their territory. She knew it was only a matter of time before the issue came up between them and the Grounders, so she had made sure to plan everything so that they could claim that territory as their own. 

“You okay?” Miller asked after a moment, they had all been walking in silence until that moment. Without looking around, she knew Wells was probably now catching up to walk on her other side. 

“Yeah, I am. I just… I can’t shake off the feeling that my mother is there too,” she confessed, swallowing hard. “My dad, it was hard but I had time to process his death. But my mom? I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Beside her, Wells stiffened. If what Kane had said was true, it had been his father who had helped plot her mother’s death. Thelonious Jaha, who had been basically like a second father to Clarke. The same man that had danced with Abigail Griffin on the last birthday Clarke spent outside of the Sky Box. She could only imagine how Wells was feeling right now. 

“If you look at the funny side of things,” Miller started. “For the first time ever, I am the most excited one to see my father.” 

It wasn’t often that Nathan Miller was the positive voice in the friend group, so the three of them bursted laughing. When Bellamy turned around, having missed the best friends' conversation, but startled by the loud laughter behind him, he smiled. There was no reason to be jealous –– he had finally come to terms to the feelings he had experienced when he opened the boys tent to find Clarke curled up against Miller –– the boys made Clarke happy, and that was all that mattered.. 

It took him a moment to register the fact that someone else was watching the scene, the same loving eyes, the same distracted smile. 

“He likes you too, you know?” He told Monty, who in turn blushed and looked away, finally tearing his eyes off Miller. 

 

People were crawling outside of the Ark, helping one another, dropping to their knees as if to prove the Ground was really there. With fascination, they all looked up to the bright morning sky and Clarke smiled.  _ The Ground, that’s the dream,  _ she thought. And it was finally true for all of them. 

Wordlessly, the young sky people fell into formation. With Bellamy and Clarke in the front, and their friends following them close behind, holding the weapons lightly. 

“Chancellor Kane,” Clarke started, walking up to the familiar figure. Kane looked away from his mother, who was admiring the wildflowers with tears in her eyes. Once in a while, Clarke forgot that Marcus Kane was a person too. And some other times she was violently remembered. “I’m glad you made here safely.”

“Clarke,” he smiled small, nodding as he looked around. “We had a few casualties, I’m afraid. And we have some wounded, but overall I believe this was a success.”

“I agree,” a familiar voice interrupted before any of the young leaders could open their mouth. Behind them, Thelonius Jaha slowly walked towards the small group. 

“Congratulations Clarke, none of us would be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Dad?” Wells shoved his weapon into Miller’s chest, who took it without hesitation as Wells approached his father. “I thought you were in prison. I thought they’d fl–”

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Jaha explained. And that was enough for Wells, who was quick to give his father a hug. Clarke had to look away. Thelonius Jaha had never been very affectionate, and the moment seemed to intimate to pry. 

As if on cue, the people behind them grew restless, and Bellamy simply used his head to gesture to the Ark people. “Go say hello.”

The delinquents didn’t need to hear the words twice, soon Clarke and Bellamy were the only ones left. She followed her friends with the corner of her eye, as they searched for their parents and then fell in heartfelt embraces. They were just kids, and none of them deserved to have gone through what they had. 

“What happened?” She asked Kane, her eyes shifting to his shirt to realize he was not wearing the chancellor pin. “With Jaha?”

“We apprehended Shumway, as I said I would. And we has told that his confession  _ might  _ earn him forgiveness, so he confessed. It wasn’t Thelonious behind your mother’s death, Clarke. It was Diana Sydney.”

“Councilwoman Sydney?” Bellamy asked, and he was surprised to see Kane spoke to him directly when he replied. 

“As a former Chancellor, she would have taken the post again if something were to happen to Abby, Thelonious  _ and  _ me. Since all of us dying out of nowhere would have been suspicious, she framed Jaha. I never wanted to be chancellor, so she was talking me into giving her the pin. I almost did.”

Clarke felt as if a hand closed around her throat, but still she forced herself to speak. “Where is she?”

Kane’s face fell slightly. “Unlike Shumway, Diana’s fate was very clear. So she chose to kill herself on the way down.”

“Wait a second,” Clarke turned around to face Wells, who was slowly piecing all the information together. “That means the Council is incomplete now. There are supposed to be four of you  _ and  _ a Chancellor.” 

“Well,” Jaha smiled gently, and only then did Clarke realize he was not wearing the chancellor pin either. “We were thinking you might want to take that position. That is, if Chancellor Griffin agrees.”

Clarke’s mouth fell open, something not very chancellor-like at all. The four men were looking at her expectantly, her  _ council  _ awaited. 

“I– I am not sure. I mean  _ yes,  _ Wells should be part of the Council. But I’m not even eighteen years old, I can’t be Chancellor.”

The look of disappointment in Bellamy’s eyes was undeniably heavy. So she continued. 

“Bellamy should be Chancellor.”

The silence spread, but she knew that they would all agree with her decision. It was the most reasonable one. 

“And as first action, he should decide what happens to Shumway,” Kane declared, handing him the pin.

* * *

Even when she didn’t explicitly say so, Bellamy knew Clarke was hurt that he had chosen to talk to Shumway on his own. The decision they had taken together, as he had promised every decision would be taken. She had smiled and kissed him, securing the chancellor pin on his jacket before sending him on his way. The truth was that he knew he needed to do this on his own. He would never forgive himself for having believed Shumway when he had blamed Clarke for Octavia's imprisonment, so he needed to at least know why it had happened.

The door of the cell opened, and Bellamy stepped inside. Shumway gave him a grim smile. 

“I should have known it was you behind this whole thing, if it had been up to Kane I would have been floated immediately.”

“I need to know why,” Bellamy said simply, the door closing behind him. 

“Sydney offered me a pot in the Council, that would have been enough for anyone. That was enough for you, apparently.”

The pin suddenly felt heavy on his jacket, but Bellamy’s face remained unreadable. 

“Why did you tell me it had been Clarke who gave away my sister?”

“Ah,” Shumway chuckled. Ever since Bellamy had entered the room he had been sitting in one of the corners, with no apparent intention of getting up, or pleading for his life. He probably knew it was not worth a shot. “What makes you think I’ll tell you  _ janitor _ Blake? You are going to kill me anyway, for high treason or whatever. I might as well go with the satisfaction of a secret well kept.”

Bellamy’s jaw tightened. “We are not killing you.”

The shock in Shumways’ face was obvious, and albeit a little rewarding. 

“We don’t decide who lives and who dies here,” he explained, echoing Clarke’s words. “We are banishing you, as soon as I give the order they will put you to sleep and release you in some part of the forest. Whether you tell me or not the truth will decide if you will wake up with a broken leg. Your chances of surviving are slim as it is, so I advice you start speaking now.”

There was only a beat of silence before Shumway looked away. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out on your own. It was  _ me  _ who gave away your sister. Sure, the deal was beneficial for me, I had your mother and everything. But you were a more powerful ally. I needed you to trust me, or something like that. So I placed the blame on the chancellor’s daughter, I knew she was getting out, so it was just a matter of timing things properly. By doing that, I was making sure you would shoot Jaha when the time was right, but you couldn’t even do that.”

Bellamy had to gather all of his self control to not break at least one of Shumway’s limbs, but in the end he managed to turn around and exit the cell promptly. 

“Get him the hell out of my camp,” he roared, the guards following instructions promptly.

* * *

 

The Grounders were gracious enough to give them enough time to get used to their new life. The Ark brought down many supplies, but also many people more. The transition of power was simple, and the rates of approval of the new Council hadn’t been that high since the first Unity Day. 

Even so, duty called. And a month after the Ark’s landing Clarke had to leave to Polis to meet the Commander. Originally Bellamy was supposed to go with her, but his responsibilities as chancellor kept him tied to Arkadia, the new camp. 

It had been a full week since she had been gone, and Bellamy was insufferable. He had fixed every single structure that needed fixing, and hunted enough to feed the whole camp… twice. 

It didn’t help that Miller had finally been bold enough to confess his feelings for Monty, and they were now enjoying the stupid honeymoon phase he was never allowed to with Clarke. And the new couple was nothing but a reminder of how he had wasted the first weeks on the Ground being angry at her.

The only thing that calmed him somehow was working on the crops with the children. They had built a small greenhouse, and so far it seemed to be holding up against the winter. He was in there, kneeled into the ground as he helped the children weed out the crops when Octavia burst into the door. She was breathless, and for a moment Bellamy feared the worst. 

“Bell, she’s back,” she breathed out, she had obviously ran across camp to tell him. 

Without missing a beat, Bellamy stood to his feet, the children raising with him and trying to catch him with their shorter legs. He didn’t wait for Octavia to tell him where she was, he figured she would be near the entrance to camp, so he ran, and there she was. 

Clarke looked tired, but happy. Her blonde hair fell down her back, curly in a way he had never seen before.  _ It’s the braids,  _ he thought. Lincoln had explained him the ceremony she would go through, the branding. She would be dressed in ceremonial robes, and her hair would be braided by the Commander herself. His eyes shifted to the bandage on her arm, underneath it the Coalition brand must have been healing. 

He stopped a few meters away from her, watching her hug Miller, laughing at something he had said. And then she saw him. How they managed to make their way into each other’s arms so quickly, he wasn’t sure. But she was there, she was safe, and she was back home. 

 

“There is one more thing,” Clarke said, and everyone but Wells pulled their eyes off the map she had spread on the Council table. On it the territories had been carefully divided, and the Skaikru was now recognized as an official clan. Wells had gone with her to Polis, so whatever it was that she had to say he most probably knew about already. 

“There is one position we didn’t account for. Apparently, every clan has an Ambassador, who resides in Polis with the Commander. This is to make sure every clan has a vote on official business.” 

Bellamy’s eyes were fixed on her, but Clarke was deliberately avoiding them. After a moment of silence, the other three men were looking at him. 

“I guess my sister would be perfect for the job,” he said after a while, his words bringing him physical pain. Clarke’s head jerked to face him. “She speaks Trigedaslang fluently, and she is constantly bored here. If you agree, I will talk to her personally and see if she is up for the job.”

Clarke knew he had never done a harder decision, but he was right. Octavia was restless, and now that there was a peace treaty between them and the Grounders, Bellamy was running out of excuses to keep her in camp. She had seen Octavia interact with the people in Polis, she would indeed be perfect for the job. And at least that way he made sure she was safe. 

“Everyone who agrees say ‘aye’,” Bellamy murmured, and after a quick show of hands the decision was made. 

“Final item on the list, this is a submission from Miller himself for our consideration,” Wells said after a pause, his voice was dripping humor. “He thinks our, and I quote, dear Chancellor works a little too hard. And should take at least a day off.”

“Aye,” Clarke said immediately. The rest of the Council soon followed her example, much to Bellamy’s annoyance. 

 

“I can’t believe you sided up with them, I don’t need a day off,” Bellamy huffed, entering the tent like an upset hurricane. Clarke smiled at him, walking in behind him and sitting down on their bed. 

“Yes you do, we both do.” She patted the bed next to him and he obliged, when he joined her she started speaking again. “There is nothing else for you to do here, the camp is in perfect shape, a good oiled machine. Besides, soon the Commander will be here to discuss the Mount Weather situation. You should take advantage of the calm and rest.”

"Can I ask you something?" He said finally, and Clarke nodded, her blue eyes focused on his. 

"Did the Commander ask  _you_ to be the Ambassador? Is that why you were avoiding my eyes earlier?"  As an answer, she looked away nodding. "Clarke," he began, his hand moving to her chin, softly making her look at him. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't my proudest moment as a leader. I know Octavia will do a great job, Bell, but so would I. And I said no without skipping a beat. I couldn't even think about staying there in Polis, so far away from you. It would be like being in the cell all over again."

Bellamy smiled sadly at her, pulling her in for a gentle kiss. She was right, she would have made a great job as Ambassador, but her true place was here. With him. 

"I have a welcome home gift for you," he murmured against her lips, reaching behind him. A few seconds later he was placing the Mythology book in her lap, the very same one he had showed to her the day she realized she had fallen in love with him. 

"You kept all drawings?" She choked out, opening the book to find the drawings she had made for him a million lifetimes ago. 

"All of them," he returned as a whisper. 

Clarke threw her arms around him for the second time in the day. "I love you, Bellamy Blake."

"I love you too, Princess." Bellamy smiled, wrapping his arm around her. It was intoxicating to think that she was his, that Clarke loved him as much as he loved her. They remained embraced for a long time, before he finally pulled away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes.

“And what do you suggest we do on our day off?”

“Anything you want,  _ Chancellor _ ,” she hummed, her lips seeking his. 

Bellamy kissed her freely, his hands tangling in her golden hair as they rolled into the bed, her small body on top of his. 

“Oh Clarke, don’t you know already?” he breathed out, amused. “I might be Chancellor, but you are in charge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the final chapter!! I simply can't thank you all enough for sticking around and loving this story as much as I do <3 Check out [the edit](http://hotlatinospacerebel.tumblr.com/post/155365732244/long-way-down-you-know-we-could-talk-in-a) I did for the fic on tumblr, and stay tuned for more stories. I love you all!!


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